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MEN OF THE WAY 



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MEN OF THE WAY 



Stories of The Master and His Friends 



BY 

LOUIS TUCKER 



MOREHOUSE PUBLISHING CO. 
MILWAUKEE 

A. R. MOWBRAY & CO. 
LONDON 






COPYRIGHT BY 

MOREHOUSE PUBLISHING CO. 
1922 



DEC -i-22 



C1A692137 
^0 / 



To 
SUSAN WALLER TUCKER 

MY WIFE 

AT WHOSE INSISTENCE THE STORIES 

WERE WRITTEN 

THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

The Hymns of Mary 1 

The Desert. A Christmas Mask .... 7 

A Village in Egypt 14 

Settling at Nazareth 25 

The Schoolmaster 28 

Pig 34 

Leather Bottles 40 

The Needle's Eye 46 

Famine in the Dekapolis 51 

The Wine- Seller's Boy 55 

John Firebrand 62 

The Puzzled Centurion 71 

The Board of Inquiry 79 

The Eescue of Levi 86 

The Horns of Hattin 92 

Bathsheba 101 

Saneman 105 

The Little Lame Boy Ill 

Touching the Leper 116 

The Man Paralyzed 121 

The Madman 124 

The Lame Man and Andrew 128 

The Tombs of the Demonized 133 

The Hurt Foot 139 

The Insult 142 

The Hill Crest 150 

Ephraim 159 



viii. MEN OF THE WAY 

Oriel and Antair 166 

The Priest of Jupiter 174 

The Report to Caiaphas 179 

The Little Maid 183 

Resurrection 189 

The Fire of Coals 197 

Via Gloria 204 

Out to Olivet 215 

The Politician in the Temple 220 

The Lost Cross . . . 228 

Writing the Story: 

I. The Book of Levi Godsgift . . . 234 

II. Simon Stone's Book . . . . . 238 

III. Paul's Gospel 241 

IV. John Meditates 245 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Op. 

page 

The Ordaining of the Twelve . . Frontispiece ^ 

The Flight into Egypt 6 " 

Jesus and His Mother at the Fountain . . 24 

The Voice in the Desert 64 

In the Villages the Sick were Brought unto 

Him 72 

The Palsied Man Let Down Through the Koof 84 

The Calling of St. Matthew 90 

"Woe Unto You, Scribes and Pharisees" . . 146 

SS. Peter and John Run to the Sepulchre . 190 




CHAPTER I 
THE HYMNS OF MARY 

ND did you sing to him, Lady, when he was 
a little boy?" 

"Yes, child ; every mother sings to her little 
son. Why ask idle questions?" 
"I do not ask them idly, dear Mother of my 
Lord." 

"How so?" 

"Two myriads of people, and more, now hang, in 
love and longing, on every memory of him. The number 
grows." 

"He said he came for many." 

"Since Stephen died for him, more have done like- 
wise. He said something of blessing, once, for those 
who do not know him, and yet love him." 

"True. But what has this to do with songs for a 
baby?" 

"I would put the songs you sang to him, when he 
was a little, little boy, on the lips of every mother who 
believes, and in the ears of every child. Paul of Tarsus 
sent me, who am his secretary and physician, here to 
Jerusalem, to learn of all he did and said, and write it 
down for those who did not know him. I came to John, 
your son, because all we Men of The Way know what 
he said to you when John became your son ; and John 
brought me to you. Therefore I ask these things, not 
idly." 



MEN OF THE WAY 



"Young man — Luke — your words bring memories 
that are like sharp swords. The young cannot under- 
stand how they sometimes hurt those who are older and 
have suffered. An old man once told me so when I, too, 
was young, and held my baby on one arm. Yet, it 
is a loving thought that the little children who believe 
on him should have for lullaby the very songs he loved 
when he was little. Therefore I put aside my sorrow, 
and speak. You said that you would write them?" 

"Here is papyrus, inkhorn, and pen. Say on." 

"When he was very small, he loved best the song the 
angels sang that white night in Bethlehem. The shep- 
herds told me, and I sang it to him. Perhaps you have 
heard it, for the bit the shepherds remembered was so 
short that many learned it." 

"I have heard, but I would hear again." 

"I sang it to him often, when he was so small that 
he could not name me, but only smile. It runs : ' Glory 
be to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will 
towards men.' It is so very short that that is all. There 
was more to it, much more, the shepherds said, and I 
have heard it in my dreams, but that is all that they 
remembered. Have you written it down?" 

"Yea, Lady." 

"Nay, he called me Woman — Madame — when he 
did not say Mother. Do you the same." 

"Madame, the children born of those who trust in 
him, shall hear this lullaby to the world's end, and 
beyond. Say on." 

"Then, too, he greatly loved the song made of the 
things which came to me after God told me, by his angel 
Gabriel, of the coming of my son; which things I told 
to my cousin Elisabeth. It was not a song at first ; but 
as I held him to my heart, and told him over and over 



THE HYMNS OF MARY 



the same thing, the words fell into melody at last, and 
made a singing. Is your pen ready?" 

"Ready, Madame. Say on." 

" ' My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath 
rejoiced in God my Saviour.' 

"Elisabeth was standing just inside the doorway 
and we kissed each other. 

" ' For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden ; 

For, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me 
blessed.' 

"Zacharias was standing by her. It was evening, 
and the yellow sunbeams fell through the doorway on 
his great white beard. 

" ' For he that is mighty hath done to me great things ; 
and holy is his name. 

And his mercy is on them that fear him, from generation 
to generation.' " 

" 'From generation to generation.' Madame, I never 
heard the air to which you croon it." 

"There was a music around Gabriel, when he left me. 
My little son loved and learned that air, but, from the 
first, he always knew the angels' glory-song. Shall I 
go on?" 

" ' He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath 
exalted the humble and meek ; 

He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich 
he hath sent empty away.' 

"We were very poor then. It was before the Magi 
brought the gold and spices. Are you ready for me to 
go on?" 

" ' He hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of 
his mercy ; 

As he promised to our forefathers, to Abraham, and to his 
seed forever.' " 

" 'And his seed forever.' It is written, Madame. 
Would there were some way to write the haunting music. 



MEN OF THE WAY 



Some Greeks are said to have the art, but none here 
know it. Your voice is strong, Madame." 

"I am not old, child, though my hair is like snow. 
It whitened when he died. Also, I am going home soon, 
now, and it strengthens me." 

"Going — to Galilee? I do not understand." 

"Going home ; where he is." 

"Oh, Madame, say not so ; we could not bear — " 

"Hush, you could bear much more than that — and 
shall have need to. Would you hear the song that 
Zacharias made in his dumbness, and sang when his 
tongue was loosed? My son, when he was little, loved 
that too. It begins : 

" ' Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath visited 
and redeemed his people.' 

"Zacharias, as well as I, had seen Gabriel, — had 
seen him with open eyes, — as I had ; not in a vision, as 
Joseph did. Are you ready to write again ?" The song 
goes on: 

" ' And hath raised up a mighty salvation for us in the 
house of his servant David ; 

As he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have 
been since the world began: 

That we should be saved from our enemies, and from the 
hand of all that hate us.' 

"I was the daughter of the house of David, you know. 
I had no trouble in remembering his words, for he sang 
it many times. I asked him to. He, also, had heard a 
music, when the angel was going. 

" ' To perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to 
remember his holy covenant; 

The oath which he sware to our father Abraham.' 

"You know that Gabriel stands in the presence of 
God, and sings God's praises, not unacceptably. He 
told me so. I think it was because we both saw him, 



THE HYMNS OF MARY 



who is thus the greatest of all created poets, that our 
hearts leaped forth into these songs. Shall I go on? 

" ' That he would grant unto us that we, being delivered 
out of the hands of our enemies, should serve him without fear, 

In holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of 
our life.' 

"That was about him and me. We both knew what 
it was to be afraid. He had a voice, deep, like a great 
harp, and he turned to his little son John and went on : 

" ' And thou, Child, shalt be called the prophet of the 
Highest : 

For thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare 
his ways; 

To give knowledge of salvation unto his people, 

By the remission of their sins.' 

"Shall I repeat, or can you remember, and write it 
down ? John always went before my boy, even to death. 
You know how Herod killed him a year before — before 
— The song goes on : 

"'Through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the 
Dayspring from on high hath visited us, 

To give light to them that sit in darkness, and in the 
shadow of death; 

To guide our feet into the way of peace.' " 

"It is very solemn, Madame, and very sweet." 

"It is the longest of his lullabies. There is one other, 
that he loved much. Simeon made it. The prophet, 
Simeon, the old, old man, who met us in the Temple, 
at my Churching. It runs: 

" ' Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
according to thy word; 

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,' 

"Poor Simeon; he was a prophet, a true prophet of 
the Most High, and he had lived all his life in a nation 
which would not recognize him, and which said that 
the last prophet was Malachi. Think what that must 



MEN OF THE WAY 



mean — to be a true prophet who can get no hearing. 

He was wearying for home — as I am. He ended : 

" ' Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people ;' 
"They were the same people, who would never set 

their faces towards him. 

"'To be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of 

thy people Israel.' " 

" ' Of thy people Israel.' It is written, Madame. 
Were there more?" 

"There were, of course, the lullabies, which every 
mother in Israel sings to her baby boy, and there were 
a few more, made only for him. Some other time I may 
tell you. But he loved these four best. Leave me, now. 
I wish to sit quiet, and remember." 

"Madame, I thank you, in the name of myriads un- 
born. Not many years shall pass before every babe, 
who believes on him, shall drop to sleep to his lullabies. 
Peace be with you !" 

"And with you, be peace." 



CHAPTER II 

THE DESERT. A CHRISTMAS MASK 

Dramatis Person ae : 

Yussuf. Mature, bearded, carries staff. Wears robe, 

girdle, and sandals. Long hair. 
Miriam. Young. Wears robe, sandals, girdle, and veil. 
The Babe. Boy about two years old, dressed like the 

Egyptian. 
The Egyptian. Young man, short hair. Dark. Wears 

sleeveless shirt, ending just above knee, and sandals. 
Centurion. Clean shaven. Short hair. Armor of Roman. 
Orderly. Same dress. Some difference in armor. 
Babes of Bethlehem. A number of children two years old 

and under. Variously but scantily dressed in white. 
Angel. A young man robed in white, clean shaven, with 

a square chin and masculine face. 

Properties 

A donkey. A very small Bedouin tent. A dark rug or 
blanket. A leather water-bottle. 

Scene One 

a hollow between two sandhills on the desert 
very bright sunlight 

(Enter Yussuf, leading the donkey ivith Miriam mounted 
cross-saddle. She carries the Child, asleep, his face 
covered with the end of her veil. He wakes.) 

Miriam. Yussuf, he wakes. 

Yussuf. Miriam, are you tired? 

Miriam. Y"es. So is He, and you, and so is the donkey. 

Yussuf. We have marched far. It is full time to rest. 



8 MEN OF THE WAY 

(He helps Miriam and the Baby down, unrolls the blanket 
and tent, spreads the blanket, pitches the tent, and puts 
them under it. During this interval Babes of Bethle- 
hem, invisible to Yussur and Miriam, troop on the 
stage, play with the Baby, and pretend to help 
YussueJ 

Yussup. Now camp is made I go to watch the road. 
Eest gently, Miriam. 
(He goes to rear of stage and looks carefully over one of 
the sandhills. The Babes of Bethlehem frolic, then 
nestle down in the sand. Miriam, under the tent, 
takes little Yeshua in her arms and sings to Him.) 

Miriam. (Sings. Air: any simple lullaby.) 
Abraham of old, nearby Bethlehem, 
Built a tower of stones, roughly hewing 

them. 
David played therein, then grew king, and 

there 
Built in Bethlehem a great castle fair. 
Tower and castle old were in ruins laid : 
Of the castle vault was a stable made 
And the tower served for a fold to keep 
Shepherds and a flock of the Temple sheep. 
Abraham's gray tower, David's town, God's 

sheep, 
On a starry night once lay fast asleep. 
When an angel sent with a message found 
Shepherds wide awake, lying on the ground. 
So he told it there, standing over them ; 
They, when he was gone, went to Bethlehem, 
To the stable vault David built where they, 
Fast asleep and warm, found a Baby lay. 
Just a Baby small in a stable born. 
Though the angel hosts heralded that morn, 
Though the saints of old prayed to see His 

birth, 



THE DESERT 



Though this little Child shall change all the 

earth, 
In a stable old, without anything 
But a poor man's love, there they found the 
King. 
Yussuf. Miriam, I can see the road from here. 
There is a man upon it badly hurt. 
He reels and staggers. 
Miriam. Yussuf, call him here. 

(Yussuf calls and signs. Little Yeshua and the Babes of 
Bethlehem icake up, then drop to sleep again. Enter 
the Egyptian, reeling. Mieiam lays little Yeshua 
down and rises. Re plays with the Babes.) 

Yussuf. What is it, friend? 
Egyptian. A cavalry patrol. 

A Roman cohort met me on the road. 
The last man struck me. 
Yussuf. Miriam, come here. 

The back of this man's head is all one wound. 
(Miriam brings the water-bottle, and they ivash and band- 
age the Egyptian's head and give him water, which 
he drinks greedily.) 

Egyptian. Why, friends, are there so many babies here ? 
Miriam. There are no babies here save Y r eshua, 
Our little one, asleep under the tent. 
The blow has dazed you. 
(They lay the Egyptian down on the blanket under the 
shadoiv of the tent. All sleep. The light slowly dies 
into sunset. The Babes of Bethlehem wake and slip 
off stage. The last one rouses Yussuf. He rises, and 
strikes the tent, and they repack the donkey. Miriam 
tcishes the Egyptian fo ride, but Yussuf helps him 
ivalk instead. All plod away over sand.) 

Scene Two 

the desert by moonlight 

(The party enters, very tired. They halt.) 



10 



MEN OF THE WAY 



Yussup. Miriam, courage; and you also, friend. 
The desert's almost past. That sandhill 

here 
Hides the green fields of Goshen. 
Miriam. Then why halt? 

Yussuf. Do you not hear the clink of armor there? 
A Roman cavalry patrol comes up. 
Unless we halt they will be sure we fear 
them. 
Miriam. But we do fear them, Yussuf. 
Yussuf. Therefore then 

We must not show it. Do we fear them, 

though? 
We know that God will guard our Yeshua. 
Officer. (Behind the scenes.) Halt, dismount. Stand 
at ease. 
Marcus, restrap my loose saddle-girth. 

(Enter Roman cavalry Officer on foot, followed by 
Oedeelt. The Egyptian, who has seemed on the point 
of collapse, suddenly revives and steps forward.) 



Officer. 

Egyptian. 

Officer. 

Egyptian. 

Officer. 

Egyptian. 

Officer. 

Egyptian. 

Officer. 



Orderly. 



Whence came you? 

From Idumea. 

Whither bound? 

To the land of Goshen. 

Why is your head bandaged? 

I straggled and fought with stragglers of a 
patrol. 

Any complaint? 

No ; it was my own fault. 

Herod the King has sent out an alarm to all 
troops to arrest a man, a woman, and a 
baby, Hebrews. Did the courier say why 
he wants them, Kreon? 

(Advancing and saluting.) To kill, Cen- 
turion. The courier told the men that 



THE DESERT 11 



Herod has killed all the babes in Bethle- 
hem, trying to find them. 
Officer. Will Augustus Caesar, may his name be 
adored, never put down these butchering 
petty kings? Herod seeks man, woman, 
and child, Hebrews. Here are two men, 
woman, and child, Egyptian by speech. 
They therefore cannot be the same. Pro- 
ceed. You are dismissed. Decurions, 
see that there is no straggling from this 
patrol. 
(Officer and Orderly leave stage, and the speech is 
finished from behind scenes.) 

Cohort, attention ! Mount ! Forward, march ! 
(Tussuf and Miriam stand watching until the sound of 
the horses has died away in the distance; then Miriam 
begins to cry.) 

Miriam. Oh, Yussuf, the poor children, the poor 
children ! 
(During the pause, while the cavalry were leaving, the 
Babes of Bethlehem have trooped in. They now 
cluster around Miriam, trying to comfort her, but she 
neither sees nor hears them.) 

Egyptian. My head, my head! Water! 

(He falls. Yussuf bends over him.) 

Yussuf. His strength has given way at last, Miriam. 
Miriam. He saved us, Yussuf. Say you will not leave 

him. 
Yussuf. Of course not; but he shortly will leave us. 
There has been death in his thin face for 

hours. 
I marveled that he marched so far. He saved 

us 
And therefore we will halt here, Miriam, 
And wait by him until he goes. 



12 MEN OF THE WAY 

(Yussuf helps Mibiam from the donkey and they busy 
themselves about the Egyptian. In the meantime, 
little Yeshua plays with the Babes of Bethlehem. 
Yussuf pickets the donkey and lays the Egyptian on 
the blanket. Miriam takes little Yeshua in her arms 
and sits on the folded tent. Yussuf gathers a few 
thornbranches and tries with flint and steel to make 
a fire. Miriam sings the Nunc Dimittis to little Yeshua, 
and the Babes of Bethlehem gather round her.) 

Miriam. Lord, now lettest Thou thy servant depart 
in peace, 
According to Thy word. 
For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, 
Which Thou hast prepared 
Before the face of all people; 
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles 
And to be the glory of Thy people, Israel. 
(Miriam and little Yeshua sleep and the Babes of Bethle- 
hem make a ring around the Egyptian.) 

Egyptian. I thirst! I die! Water! 

Yussuf. (Reaching for the water-bottle.) In a 
moment. 

Egyptian. Why do you travel with so many babies ? 

Yussuf. (Giving him drink.) Here is water. As for 
babies, there is only One. 

Egyptian. Nay, there are many. Many babies. They 
stand around me in a merry ring, and 
clap their hands as when one summons 
slaves, then hold them out to me. I go 
to them. Commend me to their little 
Master when He wakes. (Dies.) 

Y"ussuf. Miriam, the man is dead. 

We have no means to bury him. Come, 

therefore, 
Let us go hence. 
(He rouses Miriam, places her on the donkey ivith the 



THE DESERT 13 



Child in her arms, and goes, having covered the dead 
body with the blanket. The Babes of Bethlehem es- 
cort them to the edge of the stage, then return, sit 
about the blanket, and wait. An Angel, being a young 
man robed in white and without wings, enters and 
stretches out his hands over the body, then lifts the 
Egyptian up, alive, still leaving a body under the 
blanket. They move sloicly aivay, the Babes of Bethle- 
hem dancing in a ring around them.) 




CHAPTER III 
A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 

OME here, Cepkru, and see the baby." 
"What do I care for babies, Amu? Am I 
a girl that I should gurgle over babies?'' 
''But this is the j oiliest little chap you ever 
saw, Cephru. He crows and kicks and 
laughs, and has more fun than any one. Hear him !" 

"He is an unusually happy baby. What is his 
name?" 

"His father and mother are Hebrews and do not 
understand Egyptian, and, as you know, I have no 
Greek. Question them for me; for it is of good omen 
that so happy a baby should come to any village." 

"Hail, Hebrew, can you speak Greek?" 

"A little, sir. What would you?" 

"The name of the baby." 

"Yeshua, Yeshua Bardawid." 

"What do you here, Dawid?" 

"Dawid is not my name, sir. We are Galileans, 
and use two names, our own, and that of some great 
ancestor. My name is Yussuf Bardawid. We seek a 
lodging, for some few days, in a pleasant cottage, for 
we are weary of the desert, and would rest." 

"Egyptians do not eat with aliens.'' 

"Nor do Hebrews, sir. We have our own utensils, 
and seek an empty cottage, not a full one. What is 
reasonable, we will pay." 



A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 15 

"Does Yeshua, the baby, ever cry?" 

"Never; that is, almost never. How is it, Miriam?" 

"He is the merriest of babies ; but one could not truly 
say that he never cries. Still, it is very seldom, for he 
is never ill." 

"There is a vacant cottage next to mine, Amu, and 
you are son of our head man, and can arrange its 
transfer. What say you ?" 

"Content, follow me." 

The quiet man, in the long blue-gray Galilean 
cloak, lifted the woman from her seat on the grass, to 
the back of the donkey, and put the child in her arms. 
Then he put his hand on the donkey's mane, spoke to 
him, and followed the young Egyptian. The cottage 
they came to would be called by us a mud hut, hardly 
fit for a pony; but it was dry, cool, clean, and shady, 
and the date-palms and fig-trees outside it made a 
pleasant noise in the wind. When the man had arranged 
the rent to be paid — he was quiet about it, did not 
gesticulate, and agreed to the first reasonable price 
named — the two Egyptian youths left them, and he took 
Miriam and little Yeshua down, and went, with them, 
into the house. 

We would have called it unfurnished, for there was 
nothing in it, though the clay floor at one end of its 
one room, was raised across the whole width of the 
cabin in a divan six feet wide and eighteen inches high. 
To Miriam and Y r ussuf, however, this seemed furniture 
enough. There was a little lean-to for the donkey at 
the rear of the cabin, and the neglected garden, though 
small, had a good many growing plants tangled together 
within its four mud walls. As a place to rest in, after 
the scorching tramp across the desert, it was pleasant 
and sufficient. In a few minutes Cephru and Amu re- 
turned with a present of dates, vegetables, and a melon ; 



16 MEN OF THE WAY 

then, after playing a bit with the baby, they retired, 
in accordance with Oriental politeness, that the coming 
meal might be undisturbed. 

The cool sound of the wind overhead, rustling the 
green leaves, was a pleasant exchange for the scorching 
silence of the desert, and Miriam laid the little Yeshua 
on Yussufs cloak, and set about the dinner very joy- 
fully. She even sang, softly, as she moved to and fro ; 
for, after physical discomfort for some days, they were 
now at ease, and after very great danger for a somewhat 
longer time, they were now safe. Miriam was a very 
happy woman. The baby pulled up by the edge of the 
divan and made little toddling rushes to and fro, the 
very embodiment of glee; and Yussuf came gravely in 
from tethering the donkey, and sat and smiled at both 
of them. 

The dinner was a great success. Y r ussuf said grace, 
and they had bread with them, and wine, and boiled 
lentils, packed in a palmleaf and left over from their 
last meal ; and the dates, and melon, and crisp lettuce, 
were all of a slightly different flavor from those at home. 
This, in itself, was luxury to people of their simple 
habits. When it is added that, though experienced 
travelers at home, they were enjoying their first taste 
of travel in a foreign land, and that, though merely a 
skilled mechanic and his wife, they had money enough 
with them, in gold, to live, in their frugal but quite 
comfortable fashion, for a number of years, it will be 
seen that no boy and girl, out of school on a picnic, 
could have more of the sheer joy of a holiday then they. 
They had worked very hard, all their lives. They had 
just escaped out of frightful danger. They were together 
in the most fascinating of foreign lands ; and they had 
nothing to do but rest. 

a God is very good to us, Yussuf," said Miriam, "and 



A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 17 



has given His holy angels charge over us for little 
Yeshua's sake." 

"It is so written in the Word," said Yussuf, looking 
over his shoulder. 

"I wish that we could see them" said Miriam. "I 
wish that you could see, with the open eye, and not in a 
vision, the Great Ones whom I saw." 

"I was not found worthy," said Yussuf; "yet, in 
dreams, I have twice seen them and know. There is 
one outside the window now, and one outside the door, 
and one here in the cottage, by little Yeshua." 

"Why, Yussuf, how do you know?" 

"There is no man of the shepherd-king's blood but 
knows something of posting guards; and where else 
would you put guards to keep us safest ? Besides, though 
my eyes are not open, they are not quite closed either. 
As you can tell sunshine through your closed lids, so 
I can tell that there is a brightness at the door and win- 
dow which is not all sunshine. As for the Great One 
in here with us, where would you stay if you were in 
command of a guard to keep a baby safe? If further 
proof be needed, look at the baby. His eyes are wide 
open. See." 

Little Yeshua, holding by one chubby hand to the 
edge of the earthen divan, and standing on unsteady 
legs, was gurgling like a little leather bottle, and clutch- 
ing with the other hand, in a glorious game of play, at 
something in the air, which might have been the sun- 
shine which came in through the window. Yussuf swept 
one big arm around him and took him to the door. On 
the way, he beamed and kicked and played with Yussuf 's 
great beard ; but once outside, he smiled, and stretched 
out his arms to something : — say the blue sky. Yussuf 
looked at Miriam, who nodded, and then brought him 
back, and left him to his frolic with the sunbeam. 



18 MEN OF THE WAY 

"I like them, Yussuf," said Miriam. "It is good 
sense, if you have to guard a baby, to make friends with 
him and amuse him, too.'' 

"They must be very great princes. It is only peas- 
ants and great kings who play with little children. 
Others are too dignified." 

"Oh, Yussuf, if you only had your throne ; you play 
with children." 

"It was not best, dear. Perhaps he," with a look 
toward the baby, "perhaps, when I am gone, he will 
have it. As it is," and he smiled, not sadly, but with a 
merry twinkle, "I do the best carpenter-work, as a king 
should, and play with babies; and, just now, like a 
king, I travel to foreign lands with my suite, and do not 
have to work. This is a most interesting country, 
Miriam, and here come ambassadors." 

Sure enough, Cephru and Amu returned, and with 
them came a half -grown girl who proved to be Cephru's 
sister. They all played with the baby a while; then 
Cephru's mother, searching for his sister, joined the 
group. Finally the women and young people took the 
baby into Cephru's house, next door, and Y^ussuf was 
left alone. He thought a moment, then rose, took the 
tiny Bedouin tent, the wine-skin, and bag of clothes, 
which constituted the donkey's pack, and carried them 
outside the house, to the lean-to, where he tucked them 
into the thatch. Then he brought the remains of the 
meal outside the door, closed it, and seated himself 
again in the shadow of the house. He seemed to have 
no special motive in this. If asked, he would have said 
that it left no trace of the house having been occupied, 
and was therefore both neater and safer. 

The village lay among groves of date-trees ; and half 
a mile away, outside the trees, and on higher land, just 
too high for irrigation, the desert began, with the long 



A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 19 

caravan road from Memphis to the isthmus, along its 
edge. On this road, there was constant passing by day 
and night. As many people traveled by night as by 
day, thus avoiding the noonday heat. Rome under 
Augustus took pride in guarding her roads; and the 
caravan-track was therefore patrolled, night and day, 
by little squads of cavalry, mostly Greek and Syrian 
auxiliaries, officered by Romans. These squads moved, 
at irregular intervals, and turned off the road occasion- 
ally, to search the villages, when any fugitive was 
missing. Yussuf, who, by observation and a few ques- 
tions, had learned this, looked, therefore, toward the 
desert much more often than toward the canal, which 
furnished water for the fields, and led toward the Nile. 

The tawny desert was hidden by the little rise in 
the land, along the edge of which fantastic figures 
strolled in a slow and straggling succession, that looked 
as if every group were certainly the last, and yet had 
continued day and night, unbroken except by wars and 
storms, for twice a thousand years. The date-palms 
were planted in mathematically straight rows; and 
through the long vista of green shadow, formed thereby, 
could be seen, as through a telescope, the road from 
desert to village, and the groups that passed its mouth, 
outside the palms. 

Into this vista now turned a resplendent 
figure. Yussuf, who was still thinking of the Shining 
Ones of the Most High, was almost startled before he 
saw that this splendor was of the earth, earthy, and 
that the man was merely a decurion of auxiliary cav- 
alry, fully armed, and with arms new-burnished. He 
came down the road at a gallop; and the sunshine, which 
fell in occasional patches between the palm-trees, 
winked, and blazed, and spattered on him, so that he 
was alternately a green shadow and a blaze of gold. 



20 MEN OF THE WAY 



His spear-head made a separate point of light above 
him. For greater ease in carrying, he had shifted his 
shield to his left arm, where it blazed like a mirror. He 
had a great crested helmet, a breastplate, thigh, arm, 
and shin-pieces, and instead of the nsnal protection of 
tinkling bronze plates hanging from the girdle, wore a 
thing like a chain-mail petticoat, which swathed his 
middle in a thousand flashes of reflected light, and made 
no noise. Yet, as he came closer, his arms and saddle- 
trappings made a pleasant bell-like rattle, and when 
he reined in before Y T ussuf, his whole equipment settled 
into place with a metallic clash. 

YTussuf rose and saluted, as he had often seen soldiers 
do. The decurion dropped his reins and saluted in re- 
turn, a rare courtesy to a civilian. This was not 
without cause, however. Yussuf himself, though but 
in ordinary civilian's dress of sandals, turban, and a 
girdled robe like a European dressing-gown, was a 
commanding figure, tall, strong, bearded, self-respect- 
ing, and self-possessed, and looked very straight into 
the eyes of those he dealt with. Then the decurion spoke, 
in Greek. 

"Where are the men of the village?" He had no 
need to ask for the women and children. They were 
crowding out of every house to look at him. 

"In the field." 

"Who are you?" 

"A stranger, turned in from the desert to rest." 

"Herod the Great," said the decurion, "seeks" — here 
his horse, which had stood rigid, but vividly alive, began 
to dance — "Herod seeks a — whoa. Algol, be still — 
Herod — behave yourself, what has got into you, Algol? 
— Have you seen — Whoa ! Down, down you brute. 
Would you fall on me? Merhercule !" 

The horse, without apparent cause, had reared and 



A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 21 

fallen backward, and the man, saving his life by dis- 
engaging one foot from the stirrup and swinging to one 
side, yet failed to spring clear, and plunged down on his 
helmeted head with a clang like a blacksmith's shop, 
and a force that should have killed an ox. The horse 
sprawled on its back a moment, all four hoofs in the 
air; then it rolled away from the man, scrambled to 
its feet and stood trembling. Yussuf, in a stride or two, 
stood over the decurion, slipped a hand into the armpit 
of his breastplate and felt his heart, then picked him up, 
and carrying him into the cottage, laid him on the 
divan. In a moment the cottage was filled with women 
and children. 

"Miriam," said Yussuf, in Aramaic, "I do not wish 
this man to see you or little Y'eshua. Y T es, he lives." 
Then, in Greek, he added; "Cephru, tell all the women 
and children to go away, and help Miriam keep them 
away. Unless this man has air and quiet he will 
die, and the Romans will visit his death upon your 
village with sword and fire. Let Amu bring water 
and help me. As son of your head man, he is the 
proper person in the absence of his father. There is 
need of haste." 

In a few moments the cottage was empty ; and Yussuf 
on one side, and the boy Amu on the other, bent over 
the decurion and loosened the straps of his armor. A 
woman silently set a jar of water inside the door and 
went out again, and they bathed his face. For a time 
Yussuf was doubtful. He even looked up and shook 
his head at the doorway, murmuring in Aramaic, "I 
fear you were too rough with him, friend." At last, 
however, the decurion sighed, and stirred a little, and, 
when Yussuf redoubled his efforts, opened his eyes. 
They were quiet eyes, not angry, and they even had a 
twinkle in them. 



22 MEN OF THE WAY 

'"Here/' said Yussuf, holding to his lips a cup of 
wine; "Drink." 

"It was a hard fall," said the decurion, when the 
wine was gone. "My head still rings and swims." He 
sat up, gingerly, and began feeling his neck gently. 
"Who brought me here?" 

ay » 

"Alone?" 

"Alone." 

"To lift and carry a full-armed man is work for a 
trained soldier, or a very strong athlete." 

"I have been called strong." 

"Justly so. What is your name." 

"Yussuf. This boy who has no Greek, is Amu, the 
son of the village headman." 

"Herod, the King, seeks a man, a woman, and a 
baby, to kill them. It is some palace intrigue. We are 
ordered to search the villages. There is a rumor, on 
the road, that he killed all the children in Bethlehem, 
where they had been, but missed them. Know you aught 
of them?" 

"I, too, am a Jew, as you see; and most Jews have 
none too great a love for Herod. I trust he does not 
find them. But Egypt is not in Herod's kingdom. How 
comes it that his orders are obeyed here?" 

"It is a mere courtesy. He asks us to search, just as 
we should ask him to search Judea for any who escaped 
from here." 

During this conversation the decurion, who was 
rapidly recovering, had been fumbling in his girdle, 
under his loosened breastplate. Now his face lighted 
up and he brought out his purse. 

"I see that this is an honest village as well as a 
kindly one. Having savpd my life — for I really think 



A VILLAGE IN EGYPT 23 

you saved my life, Hebrew — I could not have blamed 
you if — " 

"Enough. This is a poor return, sir, for such service 
as you name. All men are not thieves." 

"You have not campaigned from Britain to Parthia, 
or you would doubt that. Still, to do us both justice, 
I thought rather of the boy than you. Here, son," — 
and the decurion laid the purse in the boy's hand — "it 
is but poorly lined, but what there is, is yours. As for 
you, sir, help me to my horse. You caught my horse, 
I suppose?" 

"He is tethered outside." 

"And, if it be any convenience to you that this vil- 
lage remain unsearched, know that I shall report it 
empty. There are no other strangers here but you and 
yours, I suppose? Nay, do not start. I heard a child's 
laugh, and saw a woman's face, before my horse reared. 
I do not know that they are strangers, but could learn 
by searching. They did not look like natives." 

"They are householders, sir. This is their house. 
They gave it up for you." 

"They do not live in luxury. So be it. I would not 
ujring annoyance on them, and shall report, as I said, 
the village empty. And now, if you will help me to my 
horse, you will complete your kindness. My head still 
tingles, and will, I fear, reel when I rise." 

Amu had already gone, with the purse in his hand. 
The decurion tightened the straps of his armor, gathered 
up his arms, walked slowly to his horse, patted him, 
tightened the girths, mounted heavily and rode off, first 
at a walk, then at a canter. Yussuf called Miriam, 
thanked Cephru, and went back into the cottage. Miriam 
came quickly, while little Yeshua, guided by friendly 
hands, toddled after her. 

"Hiriam," said Yussuf, "you said that you wished 



24 MEN OF THE WAY 

to stay quiet a week and rest. We will stay two weeks 
if you wish, for here we are quite safe.'' 

Little Yeshua, in the doorway, with the blaze of 
outside sunshine making a glory round him, turned and 
looked up into the face of some one invisible : 

"Turn in," he said, "turn in." 



JESUS AND HIS MOTHER AT THE FOUNTAIN 
St. Luke ii. 40. 




Copyright by Tissot, 1895-96. 
"Then he would help his mother about the house." 




CHAPTER IV 
SETTLING AT NAZARETH 

lUSSUF?" 
"Yes, Miriam." 

"Is it true that you have bought the house, 
Yussuf ?" 

"What better use for what was left of the 
gold and spices of the Magi?" 

"Oh, I am so glad, so glad. It will be good for 
Yeshua." 

"A house and garden, a little gold left for use in 
illness, and my work as carpenter. We should be com- 
fortable, Miriam." 

"Was there clear guidance?" 

"Clear guidance. It was as if a voice within me 
spoke. I told who we are, and Bar Barachai, your 
distant kinsman, offered your own old home for sale or 
rent. The lease fell in last week and those who held 
it moved to Capernaum." 

"The old house, the dear house, the house where I 
was born, the house where Gabriel came to me, the 
house my mother kept, my father owned — oh, l^ussuf, 
it seems too good, too good to be true. How gracious 
God is !" 

"Come, let us look at it. I know you had no heart 
to go at first, but now it is your own. Here is the key. 
Come, Yeshua. You have guarded mother well while 
I was gone." 



26 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Oh, Yussuf, the trees in the garden have grown 
taller. How beautiful !" 

"Little Yeshua shall nourish, here, like them. Tell 
him about it." 

"Nay, open and go in. There is where Gabriel spoke 
to me, Yussuf. This is the room we mostly lived in. 
Here mother used to sit and sew, by this dear little 
window, and look out through the vine-leaves to the 
garden. Here she taught me to read, when I was a tiny 
girl ; and here I sat and learned the Psalms. She said 
that every child of David owed it to him to learn by 
heart his poems to the Lord. Did David ever come 
here, Yussuf?" 

"He visited all Israel. He must have come here. 
There is no record. It does not matter. He was so 
great a poet he held the whole Oasis in his heart. He 
was so great a soldier he gripped it in his mind." 

"I love to think he may have stood here, Yussuf, on 
this very spot." 

"Perhaps he did : but, come, let us look through the 
house. The people who leased it seem to have left a 
water-jar." 

"My mother bought it. I recognize the chipped rim." 

"Here is a battered iron cup." 

"It was my father's." 

"They seem to have been honest folk. They took 
what was their own and left what was not." 

"An old cup and a water-jar, no more; but more 
precious to me than gold, because of those who used 
them. Perhaps, since they left these, they failed to 
find, or, finding, failed to take, another treasure." 

"What is it?" 

"The Hymn Book of Israel; a copy of David's 
Psalms." 

"Where?" 



SETTLING AT NAZARETH 27 

"The third brick from the bottom of the divan, next 
the left-hand wall." 

"True, it is loose." 

"Pull out and reach behind it. Find you nothing?" 

"A roll of papyrus." 

"Now, God be praised, they left it. Pull it out." 

"Here it is ; old work, well done and priceless : 'tis, 
as you say, the Psalms of David." 

"Now let me hold it, hold it in my hands, and thank 
God for it. Yeshua shall learn, now, word and line, the 
songs that David sang. Oh how good God is !" 

"Open and read." 

" 'They pierced my hands and my feet. I may tell 
all my bones. They stand gaping and looking upon me. 
They parted my garments among them and for my 
vesture they did cast lots.' Oh, Yussuf, it tells of some 
one crucified. I had forgotten this was here." 

"Read on." 

" 'I will declare Thy name unto my brethren. In 
the midst of the congregation will I praise Thee. All 
the ends of the world shall remember themselves and 
be turned unto the Lord; and all the kindreds of the 
nations shall worship before Him.' Oh, Yussuf, do you 
think it can mean him?" 

"Some one dies by crucifixion, Miriam, and by his 
death brings all the world to God. Even if it do mean 
him it — it is worth it." 

"Simeon said a sword should pierce through my own 
soul also." 

"Wait. Hear the next. 'The Lord is my shepherd, 
therefore can I lack nothing. Yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear 
no evil, for Thou art with me ... . and I will dwell 
in the house of the Lord forever.' " 

"Yea, Yussuf, even if it do mean him — 'tis worth it." 




CHAPTER V 
THE SCHOOLMASTER 

ND so you have had good pupils, Barjochab ?" 
"That have I, young sir. Sulyman Baramni, 
the headman of Nazareth, and Levi Bar 
Shebhan, the ruler of the synagogue, and 
the famous Rabbi Phanuel Barannias, now 
a Sanhedrist at Jerusalem." 

"Name you no more?" 

"None." 

"Strange. I was told that you taught Yeshua Bar- 
dawid, whom you of Nazareth called Bar Yussuf ; and 
he grew a rabbi very famous." 

"Yes, I taught him letters — and have forgotten it. 
You know his fate? We schoolmasters try not to re- 
member such." 

"As a man he had a most haunting charm of man- 
ner. Surely he was not without it as a boy?" 

"Perhaps. I have forgotten. He got himself cruci — 
lifted up. Therefore I have forgotten. Why do you 
draw a fish on the ground; and why do you question 
me?" 

"Idly, to pass an hour; and yet, not altogether 
without purpose. I note that you too have drawn, on 
the ground, a fish." 

" 'Hear, oh Israel, the Lord, thy God, is One God.' " 

"I too, Daniel Barjochab, believe in God the Father 



THE SCHOOLMASTER 29 

Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus 
Christ His only — " 

"Hush, hush. Softly. Would you put your life in 
my hands, young sir?" 

"You drew the fish. Besides, my life is in God's 
hands, not in any man's. Yet I have a work to do ; and 
so, till it is finished, would take care. Therefore if you 
believe not — " 

"Nay, you are a stranger with a Greek name; 
Lucanus, is it not? and so, I was careful. Yet, you 
know the words none else in Nazareth know, and I will 
say them once again before I die. 'His only Son, our 
Lord, conceived of the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin 
Mary (I knew her well) suffered under Pontius Pilate, 
was crucified, dead, and buried. On the third day he 
rose from the dead.' Ask now what you will, and I 
will answer, though it lead to death. I am very old 
and must die soon, in any case.'' 

"Keverend Father in God — " 

"Nay, humble, very humble, and a brother." 

"Beloved brother, tell me what you will of him." 

"There is naught to tell. I only had him for a little 
while. He had small need of me. With other children, 
you tell of sickness, he was never ill; of accidents, he 
was never hurt; of risks escaped, he was never in 
danger; of quarrels, he never quarrelled; of diso- 
bedience, he never disobeyed. I laid upon him an unjust 
punishment once, for another's fault — not knowing. 
He was silent, and the other boy confessed. Who was 
it? Jude, Judas Lebbaeus, Jude the Hearty, his 
cousin." 

"You remitted punishment of both?" 

"Of course; and learned a hard lesson myself, never 
forgotten. I have been juster, since; and humbler." 

"Tell me more." 



30 MEN OF THE WAY 

"How can I, when there is nothing; nothing to tell? 
Yon know, already, the story of his one adventure, 
when he went up to Jerusalem to be made a Son of 
Precept, and stayed there talking with the great rabbis 
on the terrace of the Temple. The greatest rabbi of 
all Israel, Gamaliel the learned, ottered to take him 
into his own house as a most favored pupil; but he 
refused, and came back with his parents to Nazareth, 
and to my tuition." 

"You say you did not have him long?' 

"Not long enough to make a scholar. I taught him 
Hebrew, we read the law and prophets together, and he 
memorized, in Hebrew, the great Hallel, and the psalm 
which stands second in the second score, and some others. 
He was still learning when he left me and began to 
help in the carpenter's shop. He borrowed my books 
for years after." 

"Tell me more." 

"My son Lucanus, I am an old man, and my words 
have weight. I tell you, weighing them, that there is 
naught to tell. All that we tell of children and lads, 
springs from some defect in morals or in judgment, 
in health or circumstance. In him, there was no defect. 
He did no wrong, was never sick, made no errors, was 
never in danger. He grew, both in mind and body; 
and, surely, looking into my old heart, you can see 
that he grew in the love of us of Nazareth." 

"Then why did Nazareth cast him out the second 
time? I can understand the first time, for they wanted 
many healed, and he said, in the synagogue, that he 
would heal none; but why, the second time? For he 
healed some then." 

"Yes, he healed me, among others, of a fever. He 
heard that I was sick, and came at once to see me. 
Nazareth did not exactly cast him out. that second time. 



THE SCHOOLMASTER 31 

They just did not believe that he was anything unusual. 
Really, they were rather proud of him. They felt that 
if a second-rate citizen of Nazareth could do so well in 
the world, one of our really first-rate men, like Bar 
Amni, for instance, could do a great deal better, if he 
tried. When the Master realized this, he gave them up, 
and went away." 

"The Master? You call him so? Did not he call 
you 'Master'?" 

"Of course; but I came to see, at last, that he 
taught me more than ever I taught him. I would not 
refuse a title where it is due. 

"Tell me more. What did he do when Joseph died ?" 

"Nothing ; I mean, nothing strange. He did exactly 
what any lad of sixteen should do; buried him, rever- 
ently, and then went to work in the shop, and took care 
of his mother. It is true that, at the open grave, he 
stood intently still, stretched his hands towards the bier 
and lifted his head, as if about to speak ; but he dropped 
his hand again and said nothing. I did not understand, 
until one told me how he raised dead Lazarus." 

"Is there no more? Did this stupendous Light 
shine in your midst for five and twenty years, and none 
perceive it?" 

"With the mind, none. Young sir, I do perceive 
that you are young in mind as well as face, or you 
would know that there is no detail noteworthy, or 
peculiar, or strange, or memorable, in that which is 
exactly as it should be. The only noteworthy thing is 
that it is normal; and that is not a detail. Yet, 
though no eyes saw that light, some hearts did. He is 
my Master, and my Lord; yet, I dream of him only as 
my little lad, who leaned against my knee, with great 
round eyes of wonder, and read God's book with me. 



32 MEN OF THE WAY 

The High Priest betrayed my little lad to the Romans ; 
and I have never, since, gone up to Passover." 

"Did yon see him — lifted up?" 

"No, I was spared that heartbreak. I did not go up 
to Passover that year, for sickness of body ; and there- 
after, for sickness of heart." 

"I have heard a story that his mother sent him for 
water once, and he broke the jar, and brought home the 
water in his cloak." 

"It is an error. He was too sure of foot and hand 
and eye, and never broke a jar. It rose because he did 
once take up a little water in a woolen cloak, to show 
how close the web was woven." 

"I have heard he healed a boy named Simon of a 
viper's bite, by miracle." 

"True, yet not by miracle. He sucked the wound." 

"I have heard that, as a child, he met the robber, 
Barabbas, on whose cross he was lifted up." 

"False. As a child he met no robbers. As a man, I 
cannot say. He wrought near a year in Galilee before 
he chose the Twelve, going to and fro alone ; and whom 
he met, he never told." 

"I have heard that he brought to life a dead boy 
fallen from a roof." 

"The boy was stunned, not dead." 

"I was told that, as an infant, he struck at his nurse, 
and she went home and died." 

"False. As an infant, he struck at no one. Besides, 
he had no nurse. His mother reared him." 

"There is a story of a playmate whom he cursed, 
and who fell dead." 

"False. He cursed none." 

"What of the throne of Herod, which Joseph made 
too small, and which he enlarged?" 

"It was not a throne, but a gate. It was not for 



THE SCHOOLMASTER 33 

Herod, but for the caravanserai here, which belongs 
to the government — and thus, for Herod, in a way. It 
was not too small — and yet, in a sense, it was; for 
Joseph hung it with one plank off, for convenience in 
reaching through. He let the lad nail on the last plank." 

"How of—?" 

"My son, there are a hundred idle tales of him afloat 
here, all false. That is because the truth had in it 
nothing strange nor unusual at all." 

"Still, one last question, my brother. The words of 
our belief were chosen since he rose. How came you to 
know of them, and of the fish ? How came you to believe 
on him?" 

"Belief, I think, was always in my heart. I knew, 
and knew not how I knew, the little lad, entrusted to 
my teaching, was more than a mere lad. Remember 
that, from the first, I knew him to be true heir of David, 
and my rightful prince and king. As for the words and 
sign, it is most simple. Out of his great goodness, he 
did me high honor. After he was lifted up, yet before 
he went to the Father, the Twelve were in Galilee with 
him, and he sent greeting to me, the old man, his teacher, 
by Nathaniel — Bartholomew of Cana. When first 
Bartholmi came to Cana, after Pentecost, he searched 
me out and gave it. Through him I learned the rest." 

"By what name greeted he you?" 

"By that of Friend." 

"O, thou who art, like Abraham, the Friend of God, 
bid me depart in peace; for I must travel far, 
before we meet — near him." 

"Peace, O, Lucanus, be with thee." 

"And with thee be peace." 



CHAPTER VI 



PIG 




HE village of Branchtown is on the backbone 
of the ridge between the valley of Rapid 
River and the great sea. The pack-trail 
from Caesar's town, the main seaport of 
the country, to the old, old city of Damascus, 
crests the ridge there; and even yet, strange figures 
travel it. 

In the old days, when all the world and its mer- 
chandise went by pack-trail, it was stranger yet, like 
a constant parade or a moving museum. Many trudged 
through the town, without pause, of course; but many, 
too, halted in the square yard, under the bare sheds of 
the old stone caravanserai, to cook the noon-meal or 
sleep for the night. 

The small boys of Branchtown were fairly well 
educated, even as to books, for the village had its school- 
masters, and the Oriental equivalent of what we would 
now call compulsory education* but as to people, they 
were more experienced than many a globe-trotter. 
Though they did not travel to foreign lands, all foreign 
lands, sooner or later, traveled to them, guided by thin 
swarthy Arabs, wrapped in bernouses, and leading 
camels. 

The Branchtown boys knew personally, by sight, 
almost every great dignitary of the eastern end of the 
Roman Empire. Herod, the Tetrarch, came through 



PIG 35 

oftenest, for the place was in his district; but practi 
callv every governor, procurator, and petty king, in 
those parts, came up the Damascus road from Caesar's 
town, sooner or later, and the boys saw them all. Each 
had his guard, of course; wild tribesmen of the desert, 
native troops drilled as Eomans, or genuine Roman 
legionaries themselves, the men who had conquered the 
world. 

The boys had opportunity to become skillful and 
critical in their knowledge of soldiers. As for civilians, 
the boys knew practically every nation. The most 
numerous were Jews and Arabs, for Branchtown is in 
Galilee, and many of the long-distance caravans, from 
beyond the desert, came through with their Arab camel- 
men. There were many Greeks, too, for Pompey the 
Great had given local self-government to ten cities west 
of Princes' Lake, less than forty miles away, and thou- 
sands of Greek colonists had settled there. 

The boys all spoke Greek. Branchtown people used 
Aramaic among themselves, but all the land spoke 
Greek when talking to strangers, and he was a dull boy 
who did not pick it up. 

There were Persians, too, and Assyrians of Nineveh, 
and men of Babylon ; strange, dark men all, and mostly 
slow of speech. Frequently there were Egyptians. Oc- 
casionally, men from beyond Egypt came through, black 
men with kinky wool; or men from beyond Persia, 
brown men; and once or twice yellow men; and often, 
men from beyond Eome, men with yellow hair and 
pinky-white skins. The boys soon grew familiar with 
all the types, and kinds, and races of mankind. 

After a boy had grown tired of watching camels and 
long trains of pack-burros — donkeys — the main attrac- 
tions were horses, going down to mount the cavalry 
regiment at Caesar's town, or an occasional Egyptian 



36 MEN OF THE WAY 

or Persian juggler, or Greek minstrel. Almost every 
boy in Branchtown had heard Homer chanted to a 
group round a camp fire of camels' dung, in the caravan- 
serai. But the greatest attraction of all, except possibly 
when wild animals were carried through, in cages, for 
the Circus at Rome — the greatest attraction of all was 
Pig. Pig were an abomination in that country. Nobody 
owned pig. Nobody was allowed to own them. A pig 
was as foreign as an elephant, and much more dreaded. 
Yet the Greek colony, less than forty miles away, had 
plenty of pig, and made a pretty penny selling pork to 
the Roman regiments garrisoned about the lake. It 
sometimes got up droves from the coast; which droves 
had to pass through Branchtown, and had a baleful 
attraction, a fearful fascination, for small boys. 

Once upon a time, there was a boy standing, with 
other small boys, on the flat clay roof of the low stone 
caravanserai-sheds. Most things in Branchtown were 
built of clay or stone, for the country had been settled 
for two thousand years, and the timber cut off, ages 
ago. For the same reason, there were ruined stone walls 
everywhere, and from one of them you could climb to 
the caravanserai roof. The boys used that roof very 
much as you or I might use the dress circle at a theater, 
and looked down to see all the world at its meals. On 
this particular day they were doubly fascinated, because 
a squad of Roman soldiers was camped on their way up 
from Caesar's town, and the Greeks of the colony had 
made use of their protection to drive up a herd of pig 
from the coast. The Branchtown boys felt about them 
very much as you or I would have felt, if we had been 
allowed to look down on a pack of hyenas. 

Our boy, whose name, in his own language, was 
Yeshua Bardawid, was well grown for his age, and 
sturdy, and had a pleasant face, and bright eyes that 



PIG 37 

took in everything. He wore, like all the others, a 
garment like a dressing gown with a cloth sash or 
girdle, and he was barefoot. Suddenly, through the 
caravanserai gate, poked the long bobbing neck of a 
camel, and the boys began at once to discuss the nation- 
ality of the rider. "He is a Persian. Look at his nose," 
said one. "From Babylon, by the saddle-cloth," said 
another. "From Elam, at the mouth of the Euphrates, 
by the water-bottle," said a third, and, at a second look, 
they all agreed. The boys vastly enjoyed such discus- 
sions of foreigners to their faces, because it was carried 
on in Aramaic, which the stranger never understood. 
The boys always understood what the strangers said 
because they always spoke in Greek. 

The Elamite hesitated, when he saw that the court- 
yard was full of pig, looked at the westering sun, to see 
if he had time to push on to the next village, decided 
that he had not, and then, spoke to the old man whom 
the government put there as keeper of the caravanserai. 
All caravanserais belonged to the Government, and 
were free ; but as they gave only shelter, and all travel- 
ers had to furnish their own food and bedding, and buy 
fuel and fodder, it was not much expense to the Govern- 
ment. There was always a man in charge, who made 
his living by the sale of fodder and fuel, and by the tips 
he received from travelers. The old man, who was the 
keeper of this caravanserai, brought some fodder for 
the camel, and the pig crowded round him. Drawing 
a coin from his girdle, the Elamite leaned down to pay 
him, and out of the breast of his robe, swung a small 
black leather bag, hung round his neck with a leather 
thong. He started back at this, trying to conceal it; 
the string caught on the camel-saddle and broke, and 
the bag fell among the pig. One of them caught, 
crunched, and shook it, and from it flew a number of 



38 MEN OF THE WAY 

little white things like grains of corn. The swine 
crowded to get them. The Elamite, shrieking, leaped 
from the camel-saddle into the midst of the grunting 
squealing mass, and snatched the bag in the very swine's 
snout. There was a quick flash of tusks, a groan, and 
the Elamite fell among the surging swine. 

The Roman soldiers looked on, much interested. It 
did not occur to any of them to help. The Greeks, the 
swineherds, leaped forward hand on knife, but it was 
to keep the Elamite from hurting the pigs, not the pigs 
from hurting the Elamite. At that time, and in that 
country, nobody helped or took pity upon anyone else, 
any more than they do now in most heathen lands. To 
be sure, Jews helped each other; but the few Jews 
present could not interfere, or they would have been 
made ceremonially unclean by the swine — a disaster 
compared with which the death of a stranger made no 
difference. In a few minutes the Elamite would have 
been trampled and bitten to death, if the boy Yeshua 
Bardawid had not leaned over the parapet and called 
to the pig. 

He used the swineherds' call, such as every Branch- 
town boy had heard, though few had learned it. The 
pig stopped, which they would not have done for their 
own masters, and the Elamite rose. He was weak, 
faint, and wounded, but his half-empty bag was in his 
hand. Staggering as he stooped, he made haste to 
gather up such of the little round white things as he 
could find between the cobble-stones of the paved court. 
Attracted by this, the Roman officer rose slowly from 
his place under the arches of the caravanserai sheds, 
and strolled down to see what they were. The Elamite 
had spoken to his camel, which was already kneeling, 
and he was far too wise, and too familiar with the ways 
of Roman soldiers, to await the officer's questions. 



PIG 39 

Hastily scrambling into his saddle, he gave the word, 
and his camel lurched to his feet and left the court- 
yard, at full speed from the very first. The officer called 
to him, but he made no answer, and only hurried away 
the faster. One of the soldiers came forward, and 
looked to see what it was that the Elamite had dropped, 
and the pig had mistaken for grain. He could only find 
two or three small ones, for the swine had swallowed 
some, and the Elamite had gathered up most of the 
rest. He turned them over in the palm of his hand and 
carried them to his officer, and the two began talking 
together in Latin. Two of the swineherds were stand- 
ing very nearly under the boys, and one of them trans- 
lated into Greek for the benefit of the other. "It is a 
pity we did not keep him," he said. "The bag, which 
he dropped before the swine, was full of pearls." 

"Is there any way to overtake him?" 

"No, the camel was a riding-camel. No horse could 
catch him." 

"It is a pity. We could have used them better than 
he." 




CHAPTER VII 
LEATHER BOTTLES 

pHEEE was once a country that knew nothing 
^MFi! °f tin, regarded glass as jewelry, and had so 
little timber that casks, and barrels, and 
tubs, and vats were amazing foreign prod- 
ucts, occasionally imported by the very rich, 
but used by no one. Their coopers could make such 
things ; it was not quite beyond their skill in carpentry ; 
but there was no call for them. As a practical man, 
when you wanted anything more portable than an 
earthenware crock, and larger than a goblet, to hold 
liquid in, you went out and bought a young goat, 
chopped off his head, just behind his horns, skinned him 
carefully, sewed up the cuts in the skin, filled it with 
the liquid you wished to keep, and then ate the goat. 
This was economical, practical, and direct ; and, though 
the skin sometimes leaked, and the liquid always tasted 
of leather, it was the universal custom of the country. 
Once upon a time, there was a peasant-proprietor 
who owned an excellent vineyard. This vineyard, one 
year, gave an extraordinary yield. There was much 
more wine than usual. About the same time, there came 
a local scarcity of young goats, due to wild beasts and 
disease, and acute enough to raise the price of goat- 
skins. In such a case we would write to some other 
district and have shipped by freight enough containers 
of some kind to hold the extra wine. This vineyard 



LEATHER BOTTLES 41 

however, was in a pedestrian country. Men sometimes 
rode horses and camels there, it is true, but other men 
walked in front of the camels and led them. There were 
no mails, and so no way to send a letter. There were 
no railroads, nor even wagon-roads, and no way to 
transport freight except by mule-back ; and the expense 
of a pack-train was more than the value of most mer- 
chandise that the train could carry. Therefore the 
owner of the vineyard could not send for more skins. 
There were other vineyards, round about, and they, too, 
had an unusual yield, and their owners an unusual need 
for bullock and goat skins. Therefore he could not get 
more at home. 

The boys of Branchtown liked grapes as well as boys 
do now; and there was no need either to buy or steal 
them. The kindliest law that ever has been made by any 
man who once had been a boy, ordained that any passer- 
by, beside a vineyard, might gather grapes and eat, eat 
without question or cost, provided that he wasted 
nothing and carried none away. Therefore the little 
boys of Branchtown were much abroad when grapes 
were at their best ; and, being well within their rights, 
and having, therefore, no fear of owner or laborer, they 
not only touched the edges of the vineyards, but pene- 
trated to the very winepress in the center, and made 
friends with all who worked there. Probably their 
help, in part or even wholly, repaid the value of what 
they ate; for as all small boys do, they helped some- 
times. At any rate, they were in touch with all that 
happened in the vineyard. 

The peasant-proprietor, who had quite a surplus of 
wine and a shortage of wine-skins, made no secret of 
his position. In fact, he could not. It was discussed 
by the women who picked the grapes, and by the man 
who trampled them out in the wine-vat. The small 



42 MEN OF THE WAY 

boys, who frequented the vineyard, knew all about it. 
There was Philip, who afterwards moved to Bethsaida, 
and Yeshua Bardawid, and Joses, and Jude, and Simon 
Barclopas, who were up on a visit from Fishtown-on- 
the-lake, and James Barzebedee from Jerusalem, and 
little John, his brother. All the boys were cousins, 
except Philip; and, of course, there were many other 
boys in and about Simon's vineyard, though none but 
Philip was thoroughly intimate with the little group of 
cousins. There was another cousin, James Barclopas, 
but he was almost a young man, and did not go much 
with the boys, being much too dignified to eat grapes 
and play in vineyards. The parents of all these cousins 
had taken pains that the boys should get acquainted; 
for Yeshua Bardawid who, except little John Barzebe- 
dee, was the youngest of all, was the head of the elder 
branch of the ancient royal family, and the rightful 
king of the whole country. There seemed no visible 
chance that he would ever regain the throne. It was 
much more likely that he would live and die a peasant, 
as had his ancestors for centuries. Still, he was right- 
fully the crown-prince, and one can never be sure what 
may turn up, some one might start a revolution, some- 
thing might happen, and it is always well for relatives 
to know each other. Therefore the parents of the boys 
had arranged that they should know each other well. 

The boys, like everyone else, discussed how to save 
the wine; and, like everyone else, could hit upon no 
practicable plan. In the mean time, as a temporary 
measure, something had to be done at once. The grapes 
were dead ripe, and could not wait, but must be pressed, 
and their juice, when pressed, had to be put into 
something. 

Some vineyards sold their wine in skins, and some 
decanted it into jars, or smaller skins, brought by the 



LEATHER BOTTLES 43 

customers. You had to pay for the skin as well as for 
the wine, and therefore people who had empty wine- 
skins usually had them refilled, which left an empty 
skin on the dealers hands. He, in turn, had it refilled, 
and so the vineyard's skins in the tower were emptied. 
Every vineyard, of course, had a central tower ; it had 
to have one in which to store its wine-skins. These 
towers were built of stone instead of wood, because it 
was an old, old country, settled three thousand years, 
and all the timber had been cut off, long centuries 
before; so that wood for building was expensive, and 
stone was cheaper. 

The owner of this vineyard (his name was Marhar) 
had, therefore, a tower-full of empty wine-skins. The 
leather was rather old, and not as elastic as it should 
be, but he had nothing else. The small boys predicted 
trouble in large lots, as did the workmen and even 
Marhar himself.; but there really seemed no choice. He 
therefore put the new wine, as it was taken out of the 
settling-vats, into the old wine-skins in the tower. 

The weather turned warmer than usual, and the 
wine began to work. New wine, "must," always works 
and ferments, and rises in beady, heady bubbles, and 
behaves, generally, as if it were perversely alive. The 
stone tower in the vineyard was as cool a place as any, 
and the only place Marhar had. The great bloated 
skins, looking like drowned bullocks, lay there and grew 
more bloated still. The maids, who picked the grapes, 
and the men, who trod them out in the great wine-press, 
talked freely among themselves. The boys were alert 
for disaster. Marhar went anxiously to and fro, unty- 
ing the necks of the old skins to let the gas out, and 
tying them up again to keep the wine in ; for a wine-skin 
will not stand up, but spills its wine, unless the neck be 
tied. Finally, the expected happened. Marhar, worn 



44 MEN OF THE WAY 

out, went home to sleep. The man he left in charge was 
not brisk enough. The wine worked more and more, 
through a warm night; and finally, an hour after sun- 
rise, a great bullock-hide, containing at least a hogs- 
head of new wine, burst, and spilled it all. 

The boys were in the vineyard, with a big slice of 
bread each, to make their breakfast of bread and grapes. 
They heard the outcry and hurried to the tower. Just 
as they reached there, another skin burst, and then an- 
other. The whole earthen floor of the squat tower was 
ankle-deep in wine. The pickers stopped their work; 
the purple-footed men leaped from the wine-press. The 
tower-tender ran away. Clouds of flies, and gnats, and 
bees swarmed to the spilled wine. Marhar himself, 
hurriedly summoned, came and looked at the disaster, 
and bewailed his loss, waving his hands and humping 
his shoulders, as a Jew will. Another wine-skin burst. 
That wine was as vociferously mourned as if it had been 
the blood of a slain man. Even the boys, all but little 
Yeshua Bardawid, joined in; for they liked Marhar. 
Finally, little Yeshua went up and touched Marhar on 
the elbow and said, in his pleasant, quiet, boy's voice: 

"Never mind, you did the very best you could." 

"True," said Marhar, quieting; "I did the best I 
could. I could do no better. It does not do to put new 
wine into old skins." 

Y'ears upon years later, little Y^eshua grew to be a 
great and famous orator and teacher, Y r eshua Natzri, 
by name, whom we call Jesus of Nazareth. During his 
lifetime, his doctrines aroused his nation. Since his 
death, they have overturned the world. One day, when 
some leading and very able men expostulated with him, 
for outlining a new organization of his own, instead oi 
putting his ability and energy into the uplifting and 



LEATHER BOTTLES 45 

reform of the old organizations, he told the crowd the 
story of Marhar and his vineyard and ended : 

"It does not do to put new wine into old bottles; 
else the bottles burst, and the wine is wasted." 

The story convinced the questioners; and, as a 
result of his teaching, and of their conviction and co- 
operation, Christendom exists to-day. 



CHAPTER VIII 
THE NEEDLE'S EYE 




MAN once came to the Needle's Eye of 
Jericho. He had a woman with him, and 
a sturdy twelve-year-old boy. They were 
|| bound from Jerusalem to Galilee by the 
ij Passover route, up the east bank of Jordan 
and they came late to the Jerusalem gate of Jericho, 
not from mischance, but because they had left the 
Jericho gate of Jerusalem quite late. 

Judea, in the year 9 A. D., was a native state, like 
the native protected states on the borders of British 
India now. The Romans garrisoned its cities and kept 
residents there; but most internal matters, including 
the policing of roads, were in the hands of the native 
government, and very badly done. It was, therefore, 
dangerous for travelers to stay outside a city wall at 
night; and the district between Jericho and Jerusalem 
was especially beset by thieves. Realizing this, the city 
government of Jericho allowed wayfarers to enter, even 
after the great gates were closed ; but, since opening the 
great gates of a city is a laborious task, and not to be 
lightly or casually undertaken, the city fathers very 
properly required travelers to pass through the Needle's 
Eye. 

Every fortified place, with a great gate large enough 
to need several men to open it, has a Needle's Eye, as a 
matter of course. In Europe we call it a "postern;" 



THE NEEDLE'S EYE 47 

but in Europe, Asia, Africa, and every other place where 
there are fortified cities, the little gate, under whatever 
name, is exactly the same. In European castles it was 
often used for sorties ; but everywhere it was made and 
planned for the ingress and exit of mounted messengers 
at times when the great gate was closed. Everywhere, 
therefore, it is the same ; a small gate just wide enough, 
and high enough, to lead a saddled horse through. Some- 
times it is placed in one valve of the great gate, some- 
times by its side ; but always it is there. The necessity 
for sending out mounted messengers at night without 
opening the great doors is so imperative, that a fortified 
ancient town without a postern, would have been as 
grotesque as a modern town without a telegraph office. 

The Jerusalem gate of Jericho had, therefore, its 
postern or Needle's Eye. It had, also, its very human 
and, therefore, rather surly squad of guards, detailed 
from the garrison, and thoroughly unwilling to spend 
time incessantly opening and shutting a door for people 
who ought to have started early enough, to reach their 
journey's end before sunset. Therefore they made the 
people wait outside, and only opened the gate every 
hour or so, to let the accumulated group come in. It is 
the regular custom everywhere; and, though inconven- 
ient, is so just that the crowds rarely grumble. 

As the man, the woman, and the boy stood at the 
gate, waiting for it to open, they naturally amused 
themselves looking at their fellow-wayfarers. It was 
Passover time, and therefore moonlight, and easy to see 
them. The ordinary people of a pedestrian country, 
where there are no railroads, and few wheeled vehicles, 
gathered outside the gate. There was a priest, and a 
couple of Levites, coming home from Passover, for 
Jericho was a priest city; one of the towns set apart 
for the use of the Temple-servitors, and the Priests. As 



48 MEN OF THE WAY 

such, it was a staid and dignified city, full of people 
living on their incomes; for both Levites and priests 
were endowed men, and as such, held themselves aloof 
from the working-classes. There were several merchants, 
also, ahead of their camels and not unjustly anxious 
about them ; and also quite a number of farmers, with a 
shepherd or two. The farmers were the most inde- 
pendent. The owner of a dozen acres or so of irrigated 
land was by no means an unimportant person, and his 
manner showed it. 

When quite a group were gathered outside the 
Needle's Eye, the camels hired by the merchants and 
carrying their goods came swinging up out of the moon- 
lit plain. There were three of them, with an Arab to 
lead each, and three or four armed servants of the mer- 
chants, following for a guard; and they were so large 
and stately and imposing, and so loaded with bales of 
goods, that the boy was quite sure that the big gate 
would be opened for them. Everybody was kind to the 
little Sons of Precept — the boys who went up to Jerusa- 
lem at twelve years old were called "Sons of Precept," 
and there were thousands of them every year — and, with 
the quick friendliness of boyhood, the lad had already 
made acquaintance with half the people in the group, 
so he asked one of the merchants if the gates would be 
opened. 

"Oh, no/' smiled the merchant, "the camel must go 
through the Needle's Eye like the rest of us. The sol- 
diers are too lazy to open the great gate; and even if 
they were not, the city regulations rightly forbid it." 

"But a camel is taller than the top of the gate, and 
wider than its sides." 

"Wait, little son, and see." 

Yussuf and Miriam, the grown-up people with the 
boy, smiled, and agreed to wait when he asked them. 



THE NEEDLE'S EYE 49 

It was very pleasant where they were, for the young 
night was fresh, and cool, and the moonlight turned 
even the dust of the road to frosted silver. When the 
little gate was opened at last, the Priest and the 
Levites went in first, and the others filed after, shep- 
hedr and citizen, and peasant and proprietor, all 
mingled and impatient. The merchants and the boy's 
people alone waited. 

Now, when they first came up to the gate, the servants 
and camel-drivers had loosened the girths of the pack- 
saddle of each camel, in addition to half-untying the 
lashings of each bale. Everything was therefore ready ; 
and the moment the gate was clear, the foremost camel 
was brought up to it and made to kneel. Half the men 
of the merchants' party leaped to work at its load, lest 
the soldiers grow too soon weary and shut the gate. 
Like lightning the bales were unlashed from the pack- 
saddle and carried through the postern — the Needle's 
Eye. In less time than it takes to tell it, the pack- 
saddle followed. Then the driver of the camel, whom 
he trusted, came and stood at his head and urged him 
forward. The camel tried to rise, but was prevented; 
then he began to protest, to bubble and groan, and to 
hitch forward on his knees. First, his long neck 
vanished through the postern; then, his fore-quarters; 
then his hump. Groaning, lamenting, yet obeying, with 
not one bale of all his rich burden left to him, his very 
pack-saddle gone, his high head bowed and always on 
his knees, that camel passed through the Eye of the 
Needle. Then they put on him saddle and bales again, 
and led him to the inn ; and, with the merchant, the boy 
and his people followed. 

Twenty years later, Jesus of Nazareth stood by the 
caravan-track outside a village in Perea, sadly watching 
a rich young ruler who went away sadly ; for he had 



50 MEN OF THE WAY 

just refused to give his riches to the poor and follow his 
Lord; for he had great possessions. As they stood 
there, a little group of heavy-laden pack-camels shuffled 
by, led by one wise and gray old beast, which half halted 
and turned its head, and bubbled as it passed. The 
Master said a word of greeting in the camel-drivers' 
tongue; then, smiling sadly, continued: 

"Behold, it is easier for a camel to pass through the 
Eye of a Needle than for a rich man to enter into the 
Kingdom; and yet, whosoever forsaketh father or 
mother, or wife or children, or houses or lands, for my 
sake and the kingdom's, they shall be returned unto him 
sevenfold, with Life Eternal." 



CHAPTER IX 



FAMINE IN THE DEKAPOLIS 




AIL, swineherd. How far is it to Gadara?" 
"Too far for weary feet. What does a Gali- 
lean here in the Dekapolis in famine-time ?" 
"West of the lake, we have had rains. No 
famine there. We made a circuit and came 
round the northern end, to see how you are faring." 

"Foully, most foul. Knowing there was a famine, 
you must have brought food with you. Will you spare 
a bit of bread for a man starving?" 

"Gladly ; but for a bargain. Tell us how you, a Jew, 
are herding swine for Greeks in the Dekapolis ?" 

"The thing I call my master — may curses blister 
him — he was my boon-companion when I had money — 
would give me nothing else, when I was dying, and be- 
sought him bitterly. He thinks it a grand jest a Jew 
should herd the unclean beasts he makes his living by, 
selling their bacon to the Eoman garrison at Herod's 
town." 

"Your story, your story." 

"Your name, then." 

"Bardawid — Yussuf Bardawid, of Nazareth in 
Galilee." 

"Surely not Yussuf the carpenter?" 

"The same." 

"Hail, rightful King of Israel." 

"How know you me?" 



52 MEN OF THE WAY 

"My father told me of yon often." 

"What, do I know him?" 

"Nay; bnt all well-born men of Israel know of 
David's line, and so have heard of you." 

"Were you well-born then — but no, I need not ask. 
In spite of rags and tatters, you show it." 

"Nor need I ask more of your presence here. It 
well becomes the rightful king to see and know what 
happens to his people." 

"Say on." 

"Sir, I have an elder brother." 

"Israel's law of inheritance is best for Israel; but 
under it the lot of younger sons is sometimes hard." 

"My father loved me best." 

"It sometimes happens." 

"My elder brother loved me not." 

"The two things go together." 

"I tarried at the home place overlong, doing little, 
though dreaming great things. It is the custom for 
us younger sons to move to towns, and live by handi- 
craft or trading. My brother grew impatient. He was 
right. I should have made a start in life before. He 
might, though, have been kinder. It is the custom for 
younger sons to receive education of the best, and 
goods or money for capital. My father is a very wealthy 
man. His house-servants, his very hired laborers, have 
more than they can eat. He gave me goods a-plenty to 
become a merchant, but in my anger at my elder brother 
I came here to get away into a different tetrarchy, 
where Gentiles mix with Jews. Young, angry, having 
money, I made acquaintances among the Gentiles. I 
thought them friends. I met their women. We He- 
brews are a sober race — I drank. Frugal — I spent 
money with both hands. Soon it was gone. Then came 
the famine." 



FAMINE IN THE DEKAPOLIS 53 

"A tragedy more common than it should be. What 
next?" 

"I called on those who called themselves my friends, 
for loans. They refused me." 

" Was there a woman ?" 

"One little jewel, of the dozens I had showered on 
her, would have saved my life. She flashed them in my 
face and laughed at me." 

"Had you done no true good, no real kindness?" 

"Alas, sir, none. A beggar in the street, whom I 
had fed, loaned me half his hovel. He died of the 
famine. I — I nursed him." 

"What then?" 

"Why then, I went to the chief est of my boon-com- 
panions, and spoke to him so importunately, he gave 
me leave to feed his swine — and laughed. His servants 
took their cue from him. They give me no food. My 
work is to beat down the locust pods from the trees so 
the swine can reach them, and for pay I may build a fire 
of dry branches and roast a handful of the locust 
beans for my own use. May I speak to the lad 
with you?" 

"Of course. Here is the bread I promised." 

"God thank you. His name?" 

"Yeshua Bardawid." 

"Yeshua, son of David, your father's bread is good. 
In its strength I shall go for days. Learn from me not 
to disobey your father's advice as I did." 

"Sir, if I were in a great famine and in your case, 
I would arise and go to my father." 

"Now out upon the boy. I cannot." 

"Why not? He loves you." 

"I — cannot." 

"Nay, sir, the boy speaks sense." 



54 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Is it? — Can I? — Nay, he speaks love. I will arise 
and go to my father, while I have strength to stagger." 
"God will go with yon." 
"Thanks, lad. Farewell — and — pray for me." 




CHAPTER X 

THE WINE-SELLER'S BOY 

NCE upon a time, there was a small boy by 
the name of Simon, which was the com- 
monest of all names in the Galilean hill- 
country. Wine-selling was a reputable 
trade at that time — not at all like saloon- 
keeping now; and he worked for a wine-seller, who 
was also named Simon. The business was in a Galilean 
hill-town named Cana, and one of the best-paying 
branches of its trade was the supplying of extra wine 
for weddings. Wine, at that time, was carried in 
leather bottles, made of goat-skin; and the most im- 
portant duty of Simon, the boy, was to take the donkey 
belonging to Simon, the man, load the skins into the 
panniers, and deliver them where ordered. 

Simon, the boy, was somewhat careless; so, when 
the sister of Nathaniel, the son of Tholmai, was mar- 
ried, he made an error and brought one goat-skin less 
of wine than was ordered. Nathaniel was away at the 
time, for he was a rising young politician, and had to 
keep in touch with John Baptist and his tremendous 
political and religious movement at Bethabara. He 
would be back for the wedding ; but in the mean time, 
his mother was in charge, and when she discovered 
Simon's mistake, she had no one to send down to the 
village to correct it at the moment. Later it slipped 
her mind. 



56 MEN OF THE WAY 

On the night before the wedding, Nathaniel Bar- 
tholmai returned, as he had promised; but, with the 
happy irresponsibility of politicians, he had invited a 
group of his political acquaintances, met in his visit to 
Bethabara. There was a certain Yeshua Bardawid, of 
Nazareth, with his mother, four male cousins named 
James and Joses, and Jude and Simon, some female 
cousins and their mother, and five guests of theirs from 
Capernaum ; twelve or fifteen in all. There was nothing 
to do but send out for more wine ; and naturally, as it 
could not well be delivered that night, it was promised 
in the morning. 

The next morning Simon, the man, who should have 
been up at dawn, overslept himself, and rose in a bad 
temper. Simon, the boy, therefore, started very late, 
and in a bad temper also, for his master had cuffed him. 
Therefore, when he got out of sight from the vineyard, 
he beat Josephus, the donkey. Josephus, who had done 
nothing particularly wrong, resented this extremely; 
and by stubbornly halting, and then unexpectedly start- 
ing forward, and rubbing against a wall, he managed 
to dislodge his hastily-girthed panniers, in one of which 
was the leather bottle of wine, and in the other some 
stones to balance it. Josephus always resented carry- 
ing stones. They were making a short cut, at the time, 
and were in a bypath, a little shaded lane with nobody 
in sight. Josephus flourished his heels and brayed, in 
his new-found freedom. He was not vicious and did 
not really mean to hurt his rider; but, just at that 
moment, Simon had leaned forward to try and hold 
the panniers on, and Josephus flung him head-first 
against the wall. An outsider, looking on, would have 
seen nothing but a sturdy small boy thrown by a don- 
key, and falling in the shadow of a wall by the road- 
side. Oriental skulls are thick, the donkey was small, 



THE WINE-SELLER'S BOY 57 

and the outsider would have inferred that the boy was 
not seriously hurt, and would have laughed. 

Simon, the boy, however, cared for none of these 
things. What he saw was a collection of shooting-stars 
more bright than day, which gradually quieted down 
and melted into a steady brilliance, in which he was 
afloat and submerged, as a fish is submerged and afloat 
in the sea. At first he was entirely absorbed in the 
sensation, which was delightful; for he was wet with 
light, as bathers are wet with water. Slowly, however, 
he saw that the light had voices. Had Simon spoken 
only one language, he would never have doubted that 
the voices spoke that language, whatever it was: but 
Simon was a bilingual boy, like most in Galilee, having 
a working knowledge of Greek, in addition to his native 
Aramaic. Therefore he found, even before he caught 
the drift of what the voices were saying, that their 
speech was not a language. He understood it as you 
understand your own thoughts before you put them into 
words, only much more clearly; and he did not hear 
it at all. 

"Can he go on?" 

"No, he will lie there for hours. Be careful, though. 
The blow has set ajar the doors of the citadel of life, 
and he can hear us." 

"Let me look. Ah, I see. What matter, though? 
He can do nothing and will be sure that he has 
dreamed." 

"I would like to change it into more than a dream." 

"And have Oriel interfere? They have set Great 

Ones today to guard such scum; yet, my throne was 

above Oriel's once. Oriel, you guarded very badly, 

shielding the boy, but forgetting the brute." 

"Nay, all is well." The other two voices had been 



58 MEN OF THE WAY 

harsh, but this third one was golden. The first harsh 
voice began again : 

"Leave him to his foolish peace. He knows no better. 
Look in, instead, and tell me of the Hated One." 

"Look yourself." 

"Do what you are told, slave. He made me stronger 
than you. See." 

"Enough, my Prince. Enough. Spare. I do not 
like to look at him. It makes me think of that first 
hour when he bent over me, before — before — " 

"Before we both followed one who led to greater 
things. If you, with your little powers, feel so, think 
how I must suffer. Now, obey." 

"He comes up the far side of the last hill between 
Nazareth and Cana. I cannot see clearly, because of 
the Shining Ones between; but many of ours are with 
him too." 

"What made him foolish enough to come down here 
and have himself born squarely into our prince's power ? 
Had he stayed on his throne we could never have 
touched him. As it is, he is born a subject of the 
prince of this world and under the law of death." 

"But surely, on the Lord of Life the law of death 
cannot be inflicted ; and, if it could, our prince, Lucifer, 
Son of the Morning ..." 

"You speak of things too high for you, Antair. 
How is it, Oriel? Will you not answer? Yet, I re- 
member a day when you came humbly to me, having the 
lesser glory, and we talked together of the exceeding 
power of him who is now toiling, like an ant among 
ants, up the slope of yonder hill, and will presently 
find himself one of the minor guests at an obscure hill- 
festival." 

"The more sin yours, who turned away from him." 



THE WINE-SELLER'S BOY 59 

"So you can speak, if it be scornful, Oriel. Look 
again, Antair, and tell us what he does." 

"He enters the house, washing his hands at the 
water-pots. There are many more at the wedding than 
were expected, and the house-mother's mind is full of 
gloomy thoughts, gray, like storm-clouds, and strain- 
ing after this boy, whom we have here. She has even 
gone to the door to look for him, thinking of wine." 

Simon, the boy, also thought of wine, remembered 
his errand, and struggled to get up and finish his work. 
A hand was laid on his shoulder — not a physical hand 
on his physical shoulder, of course, but one must use 
words of some kind to express facts spiritual — and a 
voice, the golden voice, said : "Peace. Lie still." 

"That must be Oriel," thought the boy, and settled 
back, content to obey ; yet troubled, also, at the coming 
trouble of the good customers who had dealt kindly 
with him. 

"Yes, I am Oriel," said the voice. "As for their 
trouble, it shall be turned into joy." 

The delight in Oriel's voice really seemed extreme, 
for the occasion. The boy checked himself, in the 
thought, as he might have done in a rude remark; but 
both the harsh voices chuckled. 

"Look again, Antair, and tell us what you see." 

"The mistress of the house is so greatly angry and 
troubled concerning the absence of this boy, that the 
smoke of her anger almost hides the house itself." 

"Can it obscure the Hated One?" 

"No, he shines through it. Look, Oriel, look. The 
Hated One, your best-beloved, shines with increasing 
brightness. His mother has just spoken to him. Betel- 
gule, he is doing something I do not understand. Look, 
look, the brightness grows. You are not only stronger 



60 MEN OF THE WAY 

than I, but, I acknowledge that, after all, you know 
more. Look, and tell me what it is. Look." 

"You saw him do it on a larger scale, ages ago, 
Antair." 

"Do you mean . . . when he — " 

The harsh voices stopped. 

"What is it, Oriel?" asked Simon. The question 
was, of course, involuntary. It merely flashed across 
his mind that he would like to know, and that Oriel 
could tell him. 

"I do not know, Simon. If I turn to look, failing 
therefore to watch Betelgule and you, he might easily 
do you harm. He will go, presently. It has come to 
be the nature of these who were once our peers, that 
they must always go to that on which they look in- 
tently." The golden voice was very wistful. "Antair 
has gone already." 

"But not I, Oriel." The harsh voice was doubly 
harsh now. "Nor shall I. The Hated One is making 
something, as he did in the first days when you and 
I sang together for joy. There, he has finished it. How 
should he, veiled in the flesh, retain the knowledge of 
how to make things? Your captain has flesh and 
bones, Oriel; quivering nerves and heart, to kill and 
hurt, Oriel; blood to pour out upon the ground, and 
he is ours, Oriel. He has come down into the realm 
of the prince of this world, whose law for flesh and 
blood is death. The cloud is clearing. Our captain 
stands outside the house, looking down, and I can see 
his thought. He is angry that one of his subjects, as 
your captain is now, should presume to use so much 
power in his Kingdom; and all to fill — to fill — what 
do you think, Oriel? Some paltry jars of wine." 

The last words had been fainter, as if shouted from 
a distance, and Simon was conscious of some such sense 



THE WINE-SELLER'S BOY 61 

of relief as a field-mouse must feel when a hawk, which 
has been watching, flies away. 

"Where did he go, Oriel ?" Again the question was 
involuntary. 

"His captain called him. There was cause. Through 
his error in detaining you, has come the opening of the 
work of the well-beloved Master. Again, to-day, the 
morning stars shall sing together, for joy." 

The golden voice was growing fainter. 

"Oriel, Oriel," called Simon, "do not leave me, 
Oriel." 

"You are safe without me now," said Oriel, return- 
ing. "Y'our own angel can guard you. I came because 
this was one of their very great ones. Speak to him, 
Ryel." 

"I am with you, Simon, as always, save for the last 
half hour." This voice, too, was golden. 

"How shall I see you again, Oriel?" 

"Follow the Beloved Master." 

"I do not understand." 

"Ryel will tell you." 

The golden voice was much fainter. Presently Simon 
sat up, yawned, stretched, rubbed his eyes, and rose. 
The panniers lay by his side, and far down the road, 
but still in sight, grazed Josephus, the donkey. 

"My head is still sore, Ryel," said Simon, rubbing 
it. Then, rubbing it again, he added : 

"What a curious dream." 




CHAPTER XI 
JOHN FIREBRAND 

lONTIUS PILATE, Procurator of Jud'ea, 
Samaria, and Galilee/' said the Noruen- 
clator. Being a European and a servant, 
he said it pompously. 

"Annas, the High Priest," announced a 
Temple Levite. Being an Asiatic and a free man, he 
said it courteously. 

Centurions, secretaries, and attendant priests stood 
to one side and the two real rulers of the Oasis took 
seats at the far end of the great marble room, where 
none could hear them. There was a chair for Pilate, 
but Annas sat, Oriental fashion, on a divan. Annas 
began the thousand circumlocutions of Easter cour- 
tesy; but Pilate, in his downright Roman way, 
brushed them aside. 

"Annas," he said, "in most things we are opposed, 
and must be. I have annoyed you concerning the eagles 
and the shields ; not altogether from choice. I had to 
keep my officers contented. Later I must annoy you 
concerning the completion of the aqueduct. You, 
through the influence of your bankers with Sejanus, 
have checkmated me concerning shields and eagles, so 
that the net result is a temple to Jove, to keep the eagles 
in, outside the walls beside the city slaughter-house, 
and a most excellent respect in my mind for your in- 
telligence. I have learned that Herod and Caiaphas 



JOHN FIREBRAND 63 



are figureheads ; you, the real ruler. Yet, in this matter 
of John, son of Zacharias, our interests are the same. 
We cannot have an insurrection. My single legion 
could not hold your people quiet. The nearest Euro- 
pean army large enough for that is three months' march 
away. But you know Rome. It might be two years, it 
might be four, but when the war was over, you would 
have no people. We need have no personal quarrel 
about religion. I am a Roman gentleman, you a Sad- 
ducee — Agnostics both. What think you of John Bap- 
tist?" 

"John Firebrand, rather," Annas answered. "He 
is a torch and this people hay. He has found his Mes- 
sias." 

The scene was a room off the Temple at Jerusalem — 
neutral ground, for the outer Temple court was under 
the jurisdiction of both. The time was the year 26 
A.D. The country was one of the oldest of the Orient. 
It had a seacoast without harbors and one narrow, 
fertile valley connected it with the inhabited world: 
but for all practical purposes it was an oasis, about 
fifty miles wide and a hundred and twenty long, sur- 
rounded by desert, irrigated to the last square inch; 
isolated as an island; civilized for two thousand years, 
and packed to suffocation with ten million Orientals, 
mostly descended from one man. It centered around a 
sunken valley ten miles wide, a hundred long, a mile 
deep and more fertile than the valley of the Nile or 
Babylonia. At the north end is a freshwater lake be- 
low sea level, fed from a snow-capped mountain. From 
it descends a rapid river, through volcanic ash, to an 
alkali lake at the south end, the furthest spot below 
sea-level on the surface of the globe. Between the 
lakes, the country is now a waste. Then it was one of 
the most thickly populated, best irrigated, wealthiest, 



64 MEN OF THE WAY 

and most isolated communities on earth, and at that 
time, the only one where the one God was worshipped. 

"Yes," repeated Annas, stroking his long beard, 
"John has found his Messias." 

"Who is he?" 

"A young carpenter of Nazareth in Galilee, John's 
distant cousin, Yeshua Bardawid." 

"Joshua Davidson? Why Davidson?" 

"He claims to be David's heir and rightful king." 

"What is known of him?" 

"Thirty years ago, the shepherds at Abraham's 
tower, near Bethlehem, where graze the Temple sheep, 
reported a vision of angels, saying the Messias was 
born. The High Priest punished them for superstition. 
A little later, magi from Persia came, asking for the 
Messias, the king of the world, for they had seen a 
conjunction of planets in the East, which betokened his 
birth. Herod, remembering the shepherds, called a 
council of rabbis, and, on their report, sent the Persians 
to Bethlehem. When they had gone, he flung a cordon 
of troops around the village, and killed all the boy 
babies under two years old. For eleven years, we 
thought him dead. Then one of the little Sons of 
Precept proved so brilliant that Gamaliel himself of- 
fered to instruct him. The boy gave his name as Yeshua 
Bardawid, and said his parents had lived in Bethlehem 
but moved away before the slaughter. We lost track 
of the lad in the Passover multitudes. That was 
eighteen years ago." 

Pilate nodded meditatively. The religion of the 
oasis held latent dynamite enough for political explo- 
sions. It was based on a book begun fifteen hundred 
years ago by a great lawgiver, and added to from time 
to time by others. He foretold another and greater law- 
giver, who should dominate the valley and sweep its 



THE VOICE IN THE DESERT. St. John i. 23. 




Tissot Picture Society, New York. Copyright by Tissot, 1S95- 

"He said, I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness." 



JOHN FIREBRAND 65 



influence, in widening circles, to the world's end. Other 
writers told of a coming Anointed One, and the approx- 
imate time before his coming had expired. Next to the 
lawgiver, the greatest figure in the popular fancy was 
a wild orator, who came out of the desert centuries 
before, redeemed the oasis from heathenism, restored 
the worship of the one true God, and vanished into the 
desert again, riding upon a whirlwind in a chariot of 
fire. He, too, foretold the coming of the Anointed One, 
and it was said that he would return to prepare the 
way. 

"What says John Firebrand?" asked Pilate. 

"He is a Nazarite, a desert-dweller, more like a 
wolf than a man. The people adore him. He calls them 
snakes, will not sleep in their houses, will not even eat 
their food, but lives on pemmican and honey brought 
in from the desert by himself. He tells them they are 
dirty — dirty in heart and mind and soul, — and em- 
phasizes it by making them wash — for cleanliness of 
spirit, not of body. So many myriads washed, that 
we sent a senate committee to see whether he planned 
religion or politics. 

" 'Are you the Anointed One ?' they asked. 

" 'No,' he thundered. 

" 'Are you the wild orator ?' 

" 'No.' 

" 'Are you the predicted Prophet ?' 

" 'No.' 

" 'Who are you V 

" 'I am nobody ; only a Voice. I am a voice out of 
the desert, crying: Prepare the w T ay of the Anointed 
One ; make his paths straight.' " 

"Did the committee wash?" asked Pilate. 

"No," answered Annas, dryly, "they felt no need." 

Again Pilate fell silent, swiftly reviewing his cal- 



66 MEN OF THE WAY 

dilations. He had ten thousand men, Europeans. The 
native guards and police numbered about the same, but 
would turn against him. The population of the oasis 
ran twelve hundred to the square mile — a density pos- 
sible only because the land was mostly in vineyards, 
date orchards, and fig-groves, and the pilgrimage sys- 
tem, with its tourist traffic, supported millions. Many 
of the cities were tolerably fortified. The oasis was 
so situated with respect to deserts, seas, and other 
river-valleys, that two of the four great transconti- 
nental routes of international world-traffic were com- 
pelled to cross it, and could be cut by an insurrection. 
There must be no insurrection. 

Annas, being an Asiatic, was content to wait. Now 
he went on: 

"Yeshua Bardawid washed; not in cleansing, said 
John, but in preparation for the splendor of the com- 
ing kingdom. That makes him a member of the brother- 
hood of John's disciples. Many of John's lieutenants 
follow him. He told them that he fasted in the desert 
for forty days, and then refused to take the kingship 
of the world from the hands of Satan. John says the 
spirit of God descended upon him in the form of a 
dove." 

''Why a dove?" 

"Because no dove will abide carrion, nor the Spirit 
of God, an unclean act, or thought. Some power is on 
him. My men report it generally believed that he 
turned six tubs of water into wine at a wedding, the 
other day." 

"Annas, Annas, do you believe all this?" 

"Not a word, sir; I am a Sadducee." 

"Y r et, this is not what brought me here, Annas. The 
word you sent had something to do with world-finance." 

"Most truthfully it did. You know our pilgrimage 



JOHN FIREBRAND 67 

system. Every man of oasis-stock, who has the money, 
must come to the Temple three times a year and bring 
his son. Practically, because of expense, it works out 
to one visit a year; but every native of the oasis in 
foreign lands comes also, at least once in his life, if 
he can get the money. There is a bank in every town 
in the empire, mostly run by our men. There is a 
colony of our men in every great city in the world. 
There are some at every feast from as far west as Brit- 
ain, as far east as Delhi, where Rome does not rule, 
as far south as Madagascar, which Sejanus never heard 
of. None carries gold who can help it. To cash the 
letters of credit these men bring, we must have money, 
for though we balance one credit against another, there 
is always something left. Because we are the only 
city in the world to which responsible men come regu- 
larly from every city of the world, we have, through 
centuries, grown to be the clearing-house for the com- 
mercial paper of the world, and take quolbon on it — 
one seventh — fourteen per cent. We get the cash neces- 
sary to pay balances from the money-changers in the 
Temple court, who change all local monies into Jewish 
coinage and take quolbon on it — one seventh. Last 
house-cleaning day, this Yeshua Bardawid made him 
a whip of small cords and drove out the oxen and the 
sheep, and the dove-sellers, and overturned the tables 
of the money-changers, and mixed their accounts, and 
upset the banking business of mankind. Therefore, I 
sent word to you." 

"He did you no great harm, I hear. You re-estab- 
lished the money-changers next day. What did he say?" 
"He said it prevented prayer in God's house." 
"Myself, I half agree with him, Annas. I do not 
pray myself, but if I did, your outer court would stop 



68 MEN OF THE WAY 

me. Does Joshua Davidson object to the business, or 
to the place?" 

"To the place." 

"Why not move it then? The Temple would be 
cleaner." 

"And bow the concentrated finance of the world to 
the fancies of one Galilean carpenter! Besides, if 
moved off the Temple property, I could not control it: 
and who would then guarantee the safety of finance at 
the world's clearing-house?" 

Pilate understood perfectly, but left unmentioned, 
that Annas' private fortune would then cease to grow : 
Annas knew he understood and resented it. Annas 
also resented the fact that Pilate could not be bribed. 
In fact, Annas resented most things about Pilate, in- 
cluding the fact that he told the truth, and that he was 
there at all. 

"Annas," said Pilate now, "I hear that Joshua Da- 
vidson and John Firebrand are running rival camp- 
meetings, and that Joshua Davidson has the larger 
crowds." 

"True, Pontius Pilate. John ought to have followed 
his Messias, when he found him. The two together 
could have taken the oasis. As it is, they are working 
separately, and may quarrel." 

"John has made a fatal mistake. As long as he 
stays apart from his Messias, we can safely neglect 
him." 

"But how of Joshua Davidson? I cannot have my 
banking disturbed again. You Komans have taken 
from us the right of inflicting the death penalty. Slay 
me this Yeshua, lest he set up for king." 

"Not so. I rather like the word that he would not 
serve Satan even for the throne of Caesar. It has 
imagination. Let be, and let him live." 



JOHN FIREBRAND 69 



"A messenger for Annas from Caiaphas, the High 
Priest." 

"Admit him. Your pardon, Excellency, while I 
receive his message. Wait. This is public business, 
Omri. Say it aloud." 

"Caiaphas, the High Priest, informs Annas that 
Herod, the Tetrach, asks the arrest of John, son of 
Zacharias, because, while in Judean territory, he has 
publicly and grossly slandered the lady Herodias, 
Herod's wife." 

"What said he?" 

"That when she left her husband, Philip, and went 
to live with Herod, they became common adulterers, 
just as would any other couple who did the same." 

Pilate looked at Annas, and Annas looked at Pilate, 
in silence; then both put hand to lip. Some of their 
followers were frankly laughing. 

"Merhercule," said Pilate, "John Firebrand is a 
bold fellow. I would not like to see him come to harm." 

"Sir," said Annas, quick to take diplomatic oppor- 
tunity, "the country can stand Yeshua Bardawid or 
John Firebrand, but not both. One or the other must 
be used to make an example." 

"What more said John?" 

"A Jew of the Temple taunted him that two com- 
peting prophets ran rival camp-meetings within a few 
miles of each other. There was no rivalry, he answered. 
He must decrease, while Yeshua increased. Then he 
turned to the crowd and spoke of Herodias." 

"It is a resignation," said Annas, "but he should 
have followed Yeshua Bardawid. Together they would 
be irresistible. I cannot well refuse the request of a 
friendly rajah for a law-breaker. John Firebrand has 
brains, though he has not used them. Let him alone 
and he will use them, and join his cousin and then — 



70 MEN OF THE WAY 

the whole oasis aflame, and an insurrection that will 
cost ten times a hundred thousand lives. Herodias will 
turn Herod against me for protecting John. It will be 
a civil war of three factions. In common fairness, you 
must hold me safe in it. Herod will say he fights for 
Rome, and will bribe Sejanus to agree with him; and 
Tiberius, the divine Emperor, will think that you and 
I uphold rebellion. Your orders, Excellency." 

Pilate meditated a while, then rose. His lictors 
and bodyguard came to attention. 

"Since there is no help for it," said Pilate, "give 
Herod John." 



CHAPTER XII 
THE PUZZLED CENTURION 




AIL, Gaius." 
"Hail, Cario; why so thoughtful?" 
"For cause, Gaius, for cause. If ever a lone 
white man had cause for bewilderment 
among these saddle-colored natives, I am 
that man." 

"Bewilderment? I have been told that you know 
more about natives than any other white man in Gali- 
lee, and that they will do more for you than for any 
other. You have been on this Capernaum detail for 
years, and have the natives in the hollow of your hand. 
If you are bewildered, what must the cause be?" 

"It must be, and is, most strange. Nothing has hap- 
pened like it since the old myths of Aesculapius; and 
they come to me and ask me what to do. The poor fel- 
lows trust me so, since I built them a synagogue." 

"Explain." 

"Then do not cry out your incredulity, till you hear 
all. Saw you nothing unusual, as you passed through 
the streets'?" 

"Nothing — except new buildings, which look strange 
in this land of age-old towns ; yet, since Herod is mak- 
ing a new city here, I know the cause of that. Remem- 
ber that we always met at Caesarea and that I have 
never seen Capernaum before." 

"I had in mind not buildings, but men." 



72 MEN OF THE WAY 

"I saw scornful rabbis, narrow streets packed with 
a saddle-colored multitude, a few Greeks here and 
there; nothing strange in that. Yet, wait. Do you 
mean the sick? I saw more lame and blind and sick 
than a crowd, even of these sickly Orientals, ought to 
have." 

"I do mean the sick, my Gains. How much I mean 
the sick it would be hard to tell. There are sick here 
from Jerusalem, from Damascus, from Tyre and Sidon. 
If it goes on much longer, they will come from Antioch, 
and Alexandria, and Babylon. All Syria is gathered 
together in this little town." 

"Explain, mi Carlo, elucidate." 

" 'Tis a long story." 

"I am comfortable in your quarters, on your couch, 
drinking your wine. Your slaves are well-trained, and 
made my waiting easy. Being comfortable, a long 
story does not daunt me." 

"Well .... there is a man." 

"There always is ... . except when .... 
'tis a woman. Who is he?" 

"A Galilean of the hill-country, a carpenter moved 
here to Capernaum, and set up for a rabbi. They made 
him chief preacher of my synagogue here ; not so much 
for his preaching, I suspect, as because they say that 
he is the direct heir of the old dynasty, and but for us 
Romans, would now be king of this whole country." 

"For armed men in the streets that might be suffi- 
cient cause, but what has it to do with a town full 
of sick people ?" 

"This. One day the man was preaching in the syna- 
gogue — there is some story about a net-full of fishes 
before that, but I never got the rights of it — when an 
insane man in the congregation began to cry out. The 



IN THE VILLAGES THE SICK WERE 
BROUGHT UNTO HIM. St. Mark vi. 56. 



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Tissot Picture Society, Ne^ 



N 32. 



Copyright by Tissot, 



And whithersoever he entered, into villages, or cities, or country, 
they laid the sick in the streets." 



THE PUZZLED CENTURION 73 

preacher ordered hini out into the open space before the 
rostrum and — cured him." 

"Cured him? Why—" 

"Keinember that you were not to interrupt with 
incredulity. Of course, I do not expect you to believe. 
Besides, what does it matter? It is not what really 
happened, but what the natives think has happened, 
that settles what they do. Grant, for the sake of argu- 
ment, that he cured him — or did not cure him. The 
natives think he cured him." 

"Well, let it be so. What next?" 

"Why, next, he went as guest to the home of a pupil, 
and there they found no dinner ; for the pupil's mother, 
or mother-in-law, or some one — whoever it was that 
had stayed home to cook — was sick with a sharp attack 
of our sudden burning fever. So the rabbi bent over 
her and rebuked the fever and cured her, and she got 
up and prepared the dinner." 

"How convenient. But, of course, you do not be- 
lieve such tales?" 

"I have investigated the cure of the maniac, which 
was done in public, and, as it happens, I do believe it. 
But it does not matter in the least. It is not what I 
believe, or you, but what this great uneasy mass of 
treacherous natives, always on the edge of rebellion, 
believes, which makes the difference; for they act on 
that belief. They believe these two cures most devoutly. 
Yet even that does not matter now. The affair is far 
past the stage when those two cures make any differ- 
ence. They simply served, true or false, to convince 
the common people that this rabbi could cure the sick 
and madmen. So, what should they do but gather up 
most of the sick in town, and all the madmen, and 
bring them to the house where this rabbi stayed ? And 
he cured them." 



74 MEN OF THE WAY 

a 0h, come now, Cario !" 

"He cured them. It was the sabbath when they had 
their synagogue, and you know the superstition of these 
people which prevents their doing anything till sunset 
on the sabbath. Therefore it was after sunset when 
they began to gather in the street outside his house. 
My men reported the crowd to me, as they do all night 
gatherings — " 

"Yes, I have heard that your discipline is good." 

"Thanks — and so I took guards and went myself to 
look at them. The street, in front of the house, was 
packed solid, and bright with many torches. The 
crowd was most confused, for it was made up of little 
groups of five or six men, each group carrying a sick 
man or struggling with a maniac. I had known, of 
course, but had not fully realized, how many madmen 
there were about Capernaum. Some day, my Gaius, 
we will have hospitals for such, as we have now for 
soldiers." 

"Treat madmen, civilians, as we treat legionaries? 
Not so. Go on." 

"The rabbi was standing in the doorway of the house, 
with a torch-bearer on either side. They carried each 
sick man to him, and the rabbi leaned down and spoke 
to each. Then the sick man rose from his litter and 
walked off." 

"Cured, I suppose?" 

"They looked cured. I investigated a dozen cases 
later and found them cured. Spare your sneers. It 
does not matter to us whether they were cured or not, 
but only that the crowd thought they were. The mad- 
men were different. Each was forced, struggling and 
howling, before the rabbi. He spoke to each, short, 
sharp, stinging as the crack of a whip, the way that 
you or I would speak to a mutineer before we struck. 



THE PUZZLED CENTURION 75 

Then the madman tore away from the hands of those 
who held him, fell, writhed shrieking, then rose cured, 
and quiet, and sane. I watched for half an hour, saw 
that there was no intention nor even, so long as the 
rabbi was there, any possibility of riot, and came 
away. My men tell me that before the supply of sick 
and insane gave out and the crowd dispersed, it was 
past the middle of the middle watch." 

"Were there so many mad? You must be a crazy 
crowd here in Capernaum." 

"Habet, amice. Yet, remember that in other towns 
you note only the violently insane, and even them only 
when their madness is upon them. You never note the 
insane who are quiet, the feeble minded, the idiots, the 
partially-mad. Oh no, there were no more here in 
Capernaum than elsewhere. The old rock-tombs and 
quarries, just above the edge of the irrigated land, 
along both sides of Jordan valley for an hundred miles, 
are full of lepers and of madmen. There are a thou- 
sand myriads of people in this land, and ten madmen 
to each myriad is not a large proportion ; not so large 
as we have at Rome. Every deserted sandpit in the 
Campania is full of them, as you must know." 

"Habet, mi Carlo. Go on." 

"Next morning the rabbi left town. His reason, as 
reported to me, was that, since all Galilee needed him, 
he could best help by going to and fro. So he added 
the blind, the lame, the dumb, and the paralyzed to 
his list of cases, and has been going through the coun- 
try on foot, curing them and dragging vast crowds 
after him. Surely you must have heard of him?" 

"The Good Physician of Nazareth? Certainly I 
have heard of him. But what has that to do with the 
anxieties of the Commander of Capernaum?" 

"Why, this. When the news spread — and it spreads 



76 MEN OF THE WAY 

further every day — that there was, at Capernaum, a 
rabbi who cured the blind and lame, deaf, dumb, para- 
lyzed, and insane, without fee or reward, the sick began 
to arrive. They came singly, then in squads, in centuries, 
in regiments, in brigades, and legions, and corps. The 
rich came first, then the well-to-do, then the poor. Many 
went on to overtake the rabbi. Many, too feeble to 
go further, settled here to await his return. Those 
that have money, live on it. Those that have none, must 
beg. Beggars are never so importunate as when they 
are far from home, and must eat or die. We are con- 
gested with the riff-raff of humanity, cluttered to death 
with the misfit deformities of Palestine. The utterly 
wretched of all Syria, and their friends, have settled 
on us, like locusts on a garden. I have scourged them 
into something dimly imitating order, camped the over- 
flow on bits of waste land outside the town, and fed 
a few, after I found that, if I did not feed, I must go 
to the trouble and expense of burying them. My clients 
would break the heart of Sulla the Merciless, him- 
self — after they had turned his stomach. Ugh." 

"Send for this rabbi to come back." 

"I did. He came. My messenger met him returning 
to stand trial before a commission of their priests be- 
cause he had cured the leper. That word spread, too. 
Fortunately, their own law forbids walled towns to 
lepers, so I can keep them out ; but in the fields, outside 
the town, I have the most awful collection of the lepers 
of Syria that was ever made. No guards will stay by 
them, so I hold them together by a dole of a bit of bread 
each day. I must do that or bury them." 

"What does the rabbi?" 

"The rabbi cures them all, a couple of hundred a 
day, a few dozen of each kind. As fast as he cures a 
dozen, a score of new ones arrive. My people have been 



THE PUZZLED CENTURION 77 

begged from till we have no more to give. My own in- 
come will not stand the strain. Besides the sick, we 
have the problem of the cured. Blind men who can 
see and want to work; sick men who are well and 
want to work ; lame and deformed men who are whole, 
in mind and limb, and want work; lepers, with skins 
healthy and rosy as little children, who want work. 
Everybody wants work, or money to travel home. I 
pack them off as fast as I can, but they still accumu- 
late ; and the rulers of the synagogue and all the lead- 
ing natives of the town are desperate, and want me 
to close the gates to all sick strangers." 

"What says Herod?" 

"Herod is in one of his long drinking-bouts. HJe 
laughs and says he wants to see the rabbi." 

"Then why not do as the townspeople wish and shut 
the gates to all sick strangers?" 

"Man, I have seen the rabbi ; at a distance, of course, 
for all rabbis think themselves defiled by the approach 
of Romans, and must disinfect and purify themselves; 
and I would not inflict that duty upon him. He has 
work enough already. Still, I have seen the rabbi ; and 
therefore, I have not the heart to shut off from him his 
broken people. Besides, it would cause a riot. Also, 
when one thinks of it, it is rather a cruel thing to keep 
all these wretched and miserable folk from reaching 
any one they think may help them. They are his people ; 
and, in a way, my people too, since I am responsible 
for them." 

"Cario, you have not a Roman heart; though how 
you got a softer one, among these cruel Orientals, I do 
not see. Build you an altar to Pity, as the Athenians 
have done, and then do the only sensible thing left you. 
Send to this rabbi. See that he fully understands the 
trouble he is making ; explain why you have not stopped 



78 MEN OF THE WAY 

him, and tell him to go away from Capernaum and 
move about through the country, and take his sick with 
him. Tell him to move slowly, so that those sent on 
from here may overtake him. Tell him to keep moving, 
so that he burden no other place with them as he has 
burdened Capernaum. Above all, tell him to let it be 
known that he will never settle and heal at Capernaum, 
for any length of time ; if he stay, he will rest, and work 
few cures, and if he work many cures, he will only stay 
a day or two. That will keep them from settling here 
to wait for him. Then when any lame, or blind, or sick, 
or insane, or lepers come here from a distance, send 
them on to him, wherever he may be, and you are saved." 

"And saved by my friend. This rabbi is a reason- 
able man, more like a practical Roman, than one of 
these hysterical natives. Therefore he will do this 
thing. You have solved my problem, Gaius." 

"Then, in reward, use this purse to feed your loathly 
lepers, till you can disperse them. Make me their bene- 
factor. Nay, do not mistake me. It is a sacrifice to 
friendship and fortune. The gods are fairy-tales, I 
am not merciful, and I do not believe in your rabbi. But 
I would have some hand in this, your problem, and would 
pay my way, unknown to him, for a sight of this curiosity 
among rabbis. I gather that he is healing, somewhere, 
and the sick I saw were going to him." 

"True." 

"Take your cloak, then, and your sword — they tell 
me that you walk without a sword among these people, 
but that is folly — and we will stand and look at him. 
I too would see lepers made into healthy children." 

"I said not that, but only 'healthy as children.' That 
much is true." 

"Agreed ; but I do not believe." 

"Then, as he once said, ' Come and see.' " 




CHAPTER XIII 
THE BOARD OF INQUIRY 

HO left the door open?" 
"Maria, widow of Alphaeus Cleopas — your 
own mother, Jude, and in her own house. 
She was so pleased and proud that the great 
rabbis should come, that she went upstairs 
to the guest-chamber with the first of the delegation; 
and left the last of the Pharisees to shut the door; and 
he didn't." 

"He certainly didn't. Upstairs, downstairs, and the 
courtyard are all so packed with strangers that we can 
hardly move ; and half of them are ill." 

"We ought to be very proud, Jude. Yeshua's fame 
has spread through all Syria. There are sick here who 
have crawled from Tyre and Sidon, and Damascus, and 
have waited for weeks till Yeshua came back to Caper- 
naum. Joses tells me that dozens of them come to him, 
because he is a son of Cleopas, and therefore Yeshua's 
cousin. Some have even come to Levi, because he, too, 
is a son of Alphaeus Cleopas. The sick are almost des- 
perate. They have spent all their money, begged Caper- 
naum bare, and are starving." 

"Yes. Some one has just stolen all the food off the 
kitchen table — and most of the dishes. Listen. There 
is John calling." 

"The Master, Yeshua Bardawid, awaits all the 
brethren, with Simon, and Thomas, and Andrew, and 



80 MEN OF THE WAY 

Philip, and Nathanael, in the upper guest-chamber. 
Pass the word, pray, good people." 

"Coming, coming. Here are James Zebedee and 
Jude. Let us through, please, good folk." 

The time was the year 26 A. D., the place, the Beth- 
saida suburb of Capernaum, and the occasion, the trial 
of Yeshua Bardawid, lately of Nazareth, for flagrant 
violation of the national quarantine laws. When James 
and Jude reached the great upper chamber, they found 
order already crystallizing out of the chaos. James, 
the son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealous, with John 
Zebedee, all three of them Yeshua's cousins, were rapidly 
arranging the priests, scribes, and rabbis of the delega- 
tion, in long rows, seated tailor-fashion, on the floor of 
the guest-chamber, and of the rear verandah. The Mas- 
ter took his place, standing in the doorway between 
verandah and guest-chamber, and the crowd in the 
courtyard buzzed as it saw him. Then the Twelve 
seated themselves at his feet and the trial began. 

There were delegates there from every city and town 
in Judea and Galilee. The oldest rabbi of the Jeru- 
salem delegation rose, and recited the order of the San- 
hedrin, authorizing the investigation, and went on: 

"A man came to Meri Bar Meri, a priest on duty at 
the Temple, saying that you had sent him to report that 
he had been a leper, and that you had cleansed him by 
touching him, thus breaking the leper-law and becoming 
legally a leper yourself, until cleansed." 

"True." 

"You then obeyed the law, ceased to enter synago- 
gues, houses, or walled towns, withdrew into the waste 
lands, and camped there, until you received word from 
the Sanhedrin to meet us here, at your legal domicile, 
for trial. Your disciples remained with you, thereby 
breaking the law and becoming legally lepers." 



THE BOARD OF INQUIRY 81 

"True." 

"The deaf, dumb, blind, lame, sick, aud demonized, 
in crowds, companies, and regiments, resorted to you, 
contrary to law, and you cured them. By that associa- 
tion, they became legally infected. You have disregarded 
the laws of ritual purity, and half Galilee is unclean by 
your means. More than a million Galileans, breaking 
through the shattered fragments of our sanitary laws, 
now stand legally as lepers, by your means. Moreover 
leprosy, by our theology, is held to be a deserved 
punishment, sent by God upon the leper for his sins." 

"True." 

"We speak by the authority of the High Priest and 
the Sanhedrin. Y r eshua Bardawid, called sometimes 
Yeshua Natzri, I summon you to show cause why you, 
and your disciples with you, should not be declared 
lepers and outcasts, and banished to the wilderness, 
for interfering with the just punishment of God, and for 
breaking the leper-laws of Moses." 

There was a dramatic pause. The fate involved was 
far worse than death, and there was ample power and 
authority to enforce it. Then the Master spoke. 

What he said, had nothing to do with the matter of 
the leper. He did not even mention it. He told them 
the Good News ; that God is the Father of man and that 
His kingdom was at hand. Then, speaking of himself 
in the stately Aramaic third person, he said that the 
Son of Man had come to found that kingdom; and so, 
was still. 

The speech, as has been said, had no direct bearing 
on the violation of the leper-law. Indirectly, of course, 
it was a perfect defense. As this defense, through all 
the glamor of its matchless eloquence, unfolded like a 
flower, the priests and older rabbis grew more and more 
restless. Something definite had to be reported to 



82 MEN OF THE WAY 

Annas and Caiaphas, the High Priests. It was, of 
course, ridiculous to try a man, who could cure lepers, 
for disregarding the infection of leprosy ; but that was 
the mistake of Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin. The com- 
mission had been ordered to try the Master, in un- 
spoken, but evident hope that they would dispose of him 
before he could break up the financial equilibrium of 
the nation, by again cleansing the Temple of the money- 
chargers ; but Annas had over-reached himself, by put- 
ting a majority of country rabbis on the commission. 
Eminent men, from every town and city of the nation, 
would not condemn the Head of the House of David, 
and their rightful king, for breaking the leper-laws by 
curing lepers; especially when they suspected that the 
motive back of the prosecution was to keep the private 
income of an unpopular prelate undisturbed. But, if 
not condemned, on what ground could the Master be 
cleared? The real reason, that the whole trial was 
ridiculous and based on personal enmity, must never be 
acknowledged. 

It was in this frame of mind that the leaders of the 
commission seized on the phrase "Son of Man" in the 
Master's speech. It was a quotation from Ezekiel, and 
a definite claim to be a prophet; much as the phrase 
"Centurion" would have been a definite claim to be a 
soldier. But, if a man be a prophet and can cleanse 
lepers, he can also cure other diseases; and eminent 
men, picked for learning and importance, from the 
cities of a nation, are mostly elderly men and not free 
from aches and pains. One grave rabbi, looking like 
a white-maned old lion, rose and said as much. 

"What is your trouble?" 

"My eyesight is dim." 

"Have you faith?" 

"Yes." 



THE BOARD OF INQUIRY 83 

"Then see !" 

The man clapped his hands to his eyes, took them 
away, looked upward, and began to intone a psalm of 
thanksgiving. A few rapid questions and answers, and 
the assembly knew him cured, and shivered in hope and 
awe. The power of the Lord was present to heal them. 
They rose, and man after man came to the Master. A 
question, an answer, a word, and each was made whole. 
Jude and James Zebedee found time to speak again. 

"This settles their verdict, James." 

"There will be no verdict, Jude." 

"How so?" 

"Look at the crowd in the courtyard." 

It was true. Word had gone out that Yeshua Bar- 
dawid was even now curing cases, and the crowd had 
gone wild. There were men there who had tramped a 
hundred miles and waited a month for such a moment, 
and they would not be denied. Commission or no com- 
mission, they would reach the Master if they could. By 
the inner stairway and along both ends of the verandah, 
they forced themselves upward, mingling with the mem- 
bers of the commission and pressing towards the door- 
way where l^eshua Natzri, surrounded by his disciples, 
cured all who came. 

Suddenly a tile fell. The whole multitude was 
startled, for so great was the press that it could easily 
happen that the whole house might fall. The flat- 
roofed, two-story Galilean houses were covered with 
clay or cement; but the verandah roofs, outside the 
parapet, were tiled. It was on the verandah, therefore, 
that the tile fell, and the people made way at once, 
leaving an open space. Heavy blows, as of a pickax, 
sounded on the verandah roof ; another tile fell, then an- 
other, then a whole mass of them, leaving space through 
which one could see a couple of men with mattocks. In 



84 MEN OF THE WAY 

less time than it takes to tell, so desperately they worked, 
there was a great ragged hole. Through this, still in 
desperate haste, was lowered a light cot-mattress, 
bunched together and swung on ropes, and with a man 
on it. A dozen willing hands received him, for, in a 
flash, the crowd realized that this was the reckless 
expedient adopted by a bedridden man to reach the 
Master. Being unable to force a way through the crowd 
into the house, the man had caused his bearers to take 
him up the outer staircase to the unoccupied flat roof, 
and to make a- hole in the verandah tiling. 

"Such great faith should be rewarded, Jude." 

"True, James, but who will mend our tiling?" 

"Hush, the Master speaks." 

"Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee." 

A murmur went round the guest-chamber and ve- 
randah. The men of the commission were accurate 
theologians, and understood to a nicety the religious 
implications of language. Here was an answer to the 
whole problem of curing sinful lepers. Their sins were 
forgiven too. Yet, only God can forgive sins. For a 
man to claim the power, except as an agent, is for that 
man to claim to be God. The Master had said nothing 
about acting as an agent. He was guilty either of 
blasphemy or of Deity. 

"Why do you think evil in your hearts?" said the 
Master, addressing the members of the commission: 
"Which is easier to say to the sick of the palsy, Thy 
sins be forgiven, or to say, Arise, take up thy bed and 
walk ? But that ye may know that the Son of Man has 
power on earth to forgive sins" — here he turned to the 
shaking sick man lying, with clasped hands, at his feet 
— "I say unto thee, Arise, take up thy bed and go to thy 
house." 

There was a moment's pause. Then the sick man 



THE PALSIED MAN LET DOWN 
THROUGH THE ROOF. St. Mark ii. 4. 




Copyright by Tissot, 1895-96. 

They uncovered the roof where he was: and when they had broken it up 
they let down the bed wherein the sick of the palsy lay." 



THE BOARD OF INQUIRY 85 

tried to rise. To his own amazement, he succeeded. He 
stooped again, rolled up his mattress, swung it over hi& 
shoulder, and backed off, thanking and praising, not 
the Master, but God. The crowd made way for him as 
he backed through; then it surged forward. Wild be- 
fore, it was now frantic. The verandah was already as 
full as it could well hold, but a mass of men charged up 
its stairs, and, as the news spread into the house, pres- 
sure on the inner doorway showed that the inner stair- 
way also was invaded. The disciples formed around the 
Master to protect him, and Jude spoke : 

"End this, Yeshua, or the house will be about our 
ears." 

"Very well, Jude. Cephas, we will go to the mar- 
ket place, and teach and cure the people there." 

Simon Stone, the captain of the fishing-boat belong- 
ing to the firm of Zebedee and Jonasson, called his men : 

"Andrew, Thomas, Philip, Nathanael, precede the 
Master to the market-place. James and John Zebedee, 
Jude and James, and Simon Barcleopas, his cousins, 
follow him. Make way, good folk, make way !" 




CHAPTER XIV 

THE RESCUE OF LEVI 

AKE way, good people, for Yeshua Barda- 
wid, the prophet of Nazareth. He goes to 
the market-place, where there is more room, 
and there will teach and heal those who 
come to him." 
Thev got out of the house with very little trouble, 
for the crowd made way ; and, in the midst of a tumultu- 
ous multitude, the disciples surged toward the heart 
of Capernaum. In the press, James found himself 
again by the side of Jude. 

"That was like Yeshua," Jude grumbled : "Here he 
earns the enmity of the High Priest and upsets national 
finance, just at the beginning of his work ; yet that same 
High Priest must pass on his claim to be Messias. Then, 
he cures a man at the Sheep Market, and gets himself 
brought before the Temple Sanhedrin, for Sabbath- 
breaking. The case is undecided yet, because he sets 
them discussing whether he is Messias, and they reject 
him. Then he begins curing people, and traverses Gali- 
lee, preaching in all the Synagogues, and healing every- 
thing that needs it, and this leper applies, and he 
touches him; touches him, mind you; and so, gets us 
into all this. The common people would have declared 
him Messias, and he throws success away when it is in 
his hand. Then he turns this trial, to-day, into a great 
triumph, and is practically declared a prophet, when he 



THE RESCUE OF LEVI 87 

goes and spoils it all by claiming to forgive sins." 

"Perhaps he can forgive sins. The Temple needed 
cleansing. The impotent man needed healing, and it is 
surely not wrong to do good on the Sabbath. Perhaps 
he had to touch the leper to cleanse him. Perhaps, to 
cure this palsied man, he had to forgive him. Remem- 
ber, Jude, John Baptist says Yeshua is Messias." 

"He is my cousin, James, and yours. Messias he is ; 
but we are princes of Israel ourselves, if we had our 
rights." 

"Jude, Jude, he has always been a true friend, too. 
Remember when you pinned the robe of the school- 
master of Nazareth to the ground with your new knife, 
when we were all boys, and Yeshua was willing to take 
the punishment?" 

"Well, I confessed, and saved him, didn't I? Still, 
he is a dear good fellow, and I should not grumble ; but 
he does manage things badly sometimes." 

"Not badly ; only differently." 

"Well, well, James, perhaps you are right. The 
truth is, I am troubled by that fellow who sneered of 
Levi. Mother keeps asking Yeshua to do something 
for Levi." 

"Jude, you and Simon, and James, and Joses were 
legally right; but you were too harsh with Levi about 
that property." 

"Well, we gave him all he asked at last, didn't we? 
If we told him what we thought of him, at the same 
time, that was no reason why he should use the money 
to buy a publican's place here in Capernaum, right at 
our doors, too. That was really why we moved to Naz- 
areth. We could not stand the disgrace. It has broken 
Mother's heart — and he our Father's son and a 
Prince of Israel, as that fellow from Jerusalem truly 
said — Look !" 



88 MEN OF THE WAY 

"What is it?" 

"This is not the way to the market-place. This street 
leads round about, past the lake shore and Levi's booth. 
Yeshua is going to Levi." 

"Then follow. You sons of Alphaeus Cleopas are not 
the heads of the house !" 

"Content, content, James Thunder. I did not mean 
we were. But I am sorry for Levi. He is the disgrace 
of the family, just as Yeshua is its head, and they have 
never met since Levi went and made himself a — 
publican !" 

"Since he flung off in a rage, like the young fool he 
was, and made himself the worst thing he could think 
of, because you elder brothers were too harsh with him. 
Poor Levi, he was a lovable boy. Now Yeshua will 
smite and end it." 

There was, indeed, some basis for this conclusion. 
There is no easy way to make plain to a modern the full 
disgrace of what Levi had done. If the son of an English 
bishop were to open a roulette house in his father's see- 
city; if the son of a South Carolina planter were to 
turn republican, and manipulate the local negro vote; 
if a Spanish grandee were to become a blackleg gambler, 
convicted of cheating, infected with smallpox, and mar- 
ried to a peasant; and if it were possible to combine 
these disgraces in one person, the result would approach 
the disgrace of a publican in Galilee in the year A. D. 
27, but could not reach it. One would have to make 
the man a convicted traitor to his nation, besides, to 
get the full flavor of a publican's degradation. No man 
spoke to a publican, except on business. If he so much 
as caught a publican's eye, he made a sign which meant 
purification from defilement. If he touched a publican, 
he went away and took a bath, and disinfected his 
clothes. If he neglected this, the people mobbed him. 



THE RESCUE OF LEVI 



The Jew has long been eminent for careful and painstak- 
ing hatred, with patient and intelligent attention to 
detail ; and he developed it on his publicans. 

Levi had thrown himself to the dogs, and found, too 
late, that dogs are poor companions. From the gossip 
of the crowd that surged each day around his booth, he 
was posted— none better— on the history of Yeshua, 
his cousin. He knew when the family returned to Ca- 
pernaum. He had even, after nightfall, gone and looked 
at the outside of his father's house, into whose familiar 
rooms he could not enter now; no, not even to lay his 
tired head on his Mother's knee. He often met his 
brothers in the town, and turned down some side street 
to avoid them; for there was no means of return, no 
way of repentance, left open to him. 

Now he looked up from his books in the publican's 
booth, and saw his brothers coming, with James and 
John, and Yeshua, his cousins, with a great crowd 
round about him. It was too late to escape. He could not 
leave his post; there was no time to gather up the 
money on the table. So he pretended to see nothing, 
and gazed at his accounts till a pregnant silence and 
the stare of many eyes forced him to look up. 

He found a very great crowd assembled in the street, 
leaving a semi-circle in front of his booth empty except 
for his kin. James and John Barzebedee, James and 
Simon and Jude Barclopas, had grouped themselves 
behind Yeshua Natzri, and all were looking at him. 
Yeshua Natzri looked deep in his eyes and read the 
thoughts there; read him to the very last atom and 
shred of pride and penitence. The silence grew more 
and more tense with feeling, like a storm-cloud loom- 
ing to the lightning-flash. The crowd, the brethren, 
Levi himself, expected a blasting retribution. It is not 
meet that a prince, even a peasant-prince, should make 



90 MEN OF THE WAY 



himself a disgrace, a shame, and an outcast. Yeshua, 
as head of the family, had a right to punish ; and, very 
surely, he had the power. He who can cure leprosy, 
can inflict it. 

At last he said, "Follow me !" 

A sort of visible gasp went over the crowd. "Fol- 
low me" was the idiom by which a rabbi invited schol- 
ars to receive his instruction; and, by a grim jest, it 
was also the phrase by which an insurgent leader 
enlisted his staff. Yeshua Bardawid, just declared 
by national convention the prophet of Nazareth, was 
offering Levi a place among his helpers. Not smitten, 
not condemned, not even criticised, the "Disgrace of the 
family" was offered the same place as his respectable 
brothers on the King's personal staff. 

Yeshua Bardawid turned and walked away. When 
the unbelievable offer finally filtered into Levi's con- 
sciousness, and he saw what the Master meant for him, 
he sprang up, forgot the money on the table in front of 
him, and ran after his Lord. The rabble promptly stole 
the money, but he did not care. He could replace it. 
Simon and Levi, and James and Jude, four stalwart 
sons of Alphaeus Clopas, followed their cousin Yeshua, 
the Head of the House, to the market-place ; and, while 
Yeshua was speaking to the people, and curing the sick, 
the four brothers, no longer with a family disgrace 
among them, had time for a few words, and a hand- 
clasp, in the intervals of marshaling the crowds. 

"Jude — James — Simon — forgive me." 

"Yeshua thinks we were too hard on you, Levi. 
Forgive us." 

"How is mother?" 

"Well. She has prayed for this." 

When the long hard tumultuous task of curing the 
sick was finished, it was four sons of Alphaeus Clopas, 



THE CALLING OF ST. MATTHEW. 
St. Matthew ix. 9. 




American Tissot Society, New York. 



Copyright by iissot. lsyd-96* 



And as Jesus passed forth from thence, he saw a man, named 
Matthew, and be saith unto him. Follow me." 



THE RESCUE OF LEVI 91 

not three, who escorted their kinsman, Yeshua Bar- 
dawid, to the home of their mother. There is no record 
of what that mother, in happy, gasping thankfulness, 
sobbed out upon Levi's shoulder, but we can guess it; 
for, from that hour, Levi the son of Alphaeus is always 
called "Matthew"; and Matthew means "The Gift of 
God." 




CHAPTER XV 
THE HORNS OF HATTIN 

fjiHE Horns of Hattin are conspicuous rocks, 
overlooking the plain of Hattin; and the 
plain of Hattin is behind the top of the hill 
back of Magdala. It is about six or seven, 
or eight miles from Capernaum, depending 
on where you start ; for ancient Capernaum was a long 
narrow coast-town, five or six miles long, and only one 
house thick, except in the middle. Bethsaida was the 
southern suburb, Chorazin the northern, and Caper- 
naum proper, the centre. 

It was some weeks after the rescue of Levi-Matthew 
that Yeshua Bardawid led the multitude out along the 
Nazareth road to the Horns of Hattin, and spread 
them over the plain. Jude, following, fell in by John 
as they tramped out, and spoke with him. 

"Yeshua looks different, John. Why?" 

"He fasts since yesterday, and was all night in 
prayer." 

"Has he told what he plans to-day?" 

"Only a word, but I guess more. He will choose 
twelve disciples, one to rule each tribe of Israel." 

"Do you know them?" 

"I can guess." 

"Will Joses be the twelfth?" 

"No. One of us must stay home to take care of the 
two mothers. That will be Joses." 



THE HORNS OF HATTIN 93 

"But he is here." 

"He will stop at the farm. Forty acres take some 
care, and he loves the work as you others do not." 

The farm of Alphaeus Clopas, now the property of 
James, the eldest son of Alphaeus, lay at the edge of 
the plain of Genessaret, where the Nazareth road begins 
to climb the hill. Joses spoke to Yeshua as they reached 
it, then turned off there. Yeshua, the Master, went on 
up the long hill to the level pasture-land at the top, 
turned off also, crossed the pasture, and took his place 
on a conspicuous rock or small crag, jutting out of 
the hillside. Understanding that he would speak, 
the crowd ranged itself in concentric circles, and 
sat down. 

It was one of the most motley crowds the world has 
ever seen. Sickness knows no social rank, and curi- 
osity no class. There were sick from all Syria. In one 
little group a man from Damascus, with a paralyzed 
arm, stood by two Phoenicians, one from Tyre, and the 
other from Sidon, and a Samaritan, who sought them 
out because, from race-hostility, he did not feel at ease 
among the Jews. There were many Greeks from the 
Dekapolis, a few Roman soldiers on leave, and one 
group of Arabs, subjects of king Aretas, conspicuous, 
because they were on horseback; and courageous, or 
they would not have ventured into Herod's semi-hostile 
tetrarchy. Still, the bulk of the crowd was Galilean, 
with a sprinkling of Jews from Judea; among whom 
the Scribes and Pharisees, detailed by the national 
legislature, the Sanhedrin, to follow and observe the 
Master, were conspicuous; as much so, in their way, 
as the Arabs. 

The Master swept his eye over the crowd. When 
he had looked every man in the face or, at least, had 
seemed to do so, he raised his hand. All talking ceased, 



94 MEN OF THE WAY 

and he began to speak. It was only a few words, tell- 
ing what he meant to do. Then he called his men: 

"Simon Barjonas, surnamed Cephas." 

A middle-aged lake sailor, captain of the fishing- 
boat belonging to the firm of Zebedee and Jonasson, 
came forward. 

"Stand there. James and John Barzebedee, sur- 
named Boanerges." 

Two of the crew of the fishing-boat came forward 
and took their places by Simon." 

"Nathanael Bartholmi, Philip, surnamed, 'of Beth- 
saida'." 

Two Galilean hill-villagers came forward. 

"Andrew Barjonas; Thomas, surnamed Didymus." 

Two more of the crew of the fishing-boat took their 
places on the other side of Simon, their captain. 

"James, surnamed the Little, Simon, surnamed the 
Zealot, Levi, surnamed Matthew, and Jude, surnamed 
Lebbaeus." 

The four brothers, sons of Alphaeus Clopas, and 
cousins of the Master, came and stood beside the others. 
There were now eleven men in the line, and, though 
James and John Zebedee had a house in Jerusalem, yet 
the whole eleven were Galileans. The Master paused, 
and searched the crowd with his eyes. He seemed dis- 
tressed, and more than one drop of sweat rolled from 
his forehead. At last he spoke : 

"Judas of Kerioth." 

A hawk-eyed, black-haired, slender man, whose little 
peculiarities of dress showed him a Jew and not a 
Galilean, came forward and completed the line. The 
Eleven were surprised. They had not expected the man 
of Kerioth. 

Having chosen his men, the Master promptly set 
them to work. Those moderns who think that there 



THE HORNS OF HATTIN 95 

were only some thirty miracles, misread the story. 
There were so many more than thirty, that it is a weary 
and a pathetic thing merely to tell of them, and the 
Evangelists did not try. They told one or two speci- 
mens of each type and kind, and then said that there 
were many more. The Master came down into the 
plain; the Twelve marshaled the crowd, passed them 
one by one before Him, and moved them quickly away, 
as he cured them. 

When, at last, no more sick presented themselves, he 
went a little way up the hill again, where everyone 
could see him, sat down, and began to speak. That 
speech is the most famous sermon in the world, the 
only perfect system of ethics, the best commentary on 
the Ten Commandments, the entrance-gate into the 
world to come. When he had finished it, he returned 
to Capernaum. On the walk back, the newly-chosen 
Twelve foregathered. Simon Barjonas, the captain of 
the fishing-boat, whom the Master had surnamed 
Cephas, began. (The European form of Cephas is 
Peter, and signifies "a stone.") 

" You are silent, John Thunder. Why ?" 

The Master had surnamed James and John Zebedee 
"Boanerges," which means "Sons of Thunder," for they 
were notable for high, quick temper. John, the young- 
est of the Twelve, looked up and smiled. 

"I was wondering just why Yeshua put the man of 
Kerioth among us. We welcome you, Judas, and shall 
grow better acquainted. You have followed him now 
for some weeks, but we did not expect you to be one 
of us, because there are others who have been with him 
longer and seem closer to him." 

"Judea must be represented," said Iscariot, smiling. 

"We ought, all twelve, to be very proud," said 
Thomas, surnamed Didymus, which means "a twin." 



96 MEN OF THE WAY 

He was the oldest of the Twelve except Simon Stone, 
and had a magnificent beard, which he stroked as he 
spoke. 

"We are, Thomas Twin." This was from Little 
James, the eldest of the Master's cousins, and a large 
man, of stately bearing, as befitted the next heir to the 
throne, after the Master. 

"What are his plans for us?" The question was 
from Simon Zelotes. The Zealots were the war-party 
in politics, advocating rebellion; but the surname was 
given because of character, as well as political opinion. 

"Zealous Simon has hopes for war," laughed Judas 
Lebbaeus. Lebbaeus means "hearty," or "cordial," or 
"jolly," and expresses, clearly, a well-known charm of 
character. Jude was a red Jew; blonde, like the Mas- 
ter: but, unlike the Master, he was short and square 
and plump. 

"And why not, Jolly Jude?" said Andrew Barjonas, 
Simon Stone's brother. "Nathanael Bartholmi, here, 
could raise the hill-country, and we could do something 
around the lake ourselves." 

"Yes, Nathanael would make a good strategist ! The 
Master himself said that 'in him is no guile.' " 

"He could take orders as well as the rest of us, Jude" 
— this from Philip — "The Master will do the planning." 

"James Lightning and Levi God's gift," (Matthew 
means 'the gift of God') "do we fight?" 

"I hope so, Simon Stone," said James. 

"I do what Yeshua orders," said Levi. 

"Then go forward. He has finished talking with the 
men he cured, and looks 'round as if he wanted one 
of us." 

Levi-Matthew took his place by the Master's side, 
and the others closed up and followed. The great crowd 
tramped before and after in a long column, and the 



THE HORNS OF HATTIN 97 

hot dust rose above it in the sunshine. When they came 
among houses again, the tramp of so many thousands 
brought all the housewives to the doors, so that the 
Master walked for miles between a double row of spec- 
tators. Dozens of children hailed him. He never for- 
got a name or a face; and, gravely smiling, greeted 
each by name. 

"Look!" said Judas Iscariot; "What a man for a 
general. He could know by name every soldier in a 
whole legion. Think of wasting such a talent on chil- 
dren !" 

There was a man watching, outside the house, when 
they reached it. Half the crowd dispersed to their 
homes, but many waited outside. The Master and the 
Twelve went in, and Maria, the mother of the Brethren, 
with Mary, the mother of Yeshua, made haste to pre- 
pare the dinner. Before it could be served, however, 
there came a heavy knocking at the outer door. Jude 
went and returned. 

"What is it?" 

"A large party from Kedish and its neighborhood. 
They have collected all the maniacs and men demonized 
for miles around Kedish, brought them here, and pray 
you to cure them." 

"Bring them in." 

"But, Yeshua, our dinner!" 

"Never mind, Jude" — this from James — "you left 
the door open. Here they come." 

There were perhaps a hundred people in the Kedish 
party; the Jerusalem delegation of Scribes and Phari- 
sees followed, and the general crowd surged in behind, 
so that the house was packed solid, and there was no 
room, no not so much as to eat. The Master made brief 
work of the demonized. Each was dragged before him, 
shrieking and struggling; and with a shorter, sharper 



98 MEN OF THE WAY 

authority than ever before, he said to each, ''Hush, and 
come out of hiin" ; and, with a final struggle, the man 
became sane. The notable change in his manner struck 
the Jerusalem delegation. 

"He speaks with authority," they said : "He speaks 
as master to slave. The master of demons is Baalzebub. 
Therefore, he casts them out by the power of Baalze- 
bub." 

The Master turned on them. This accusation, and 
the sight of cruelty, seem the two things which always 
made him angry. He blazed out at them — the maniacs 
being now cured — saying that the devil would not cast 
out devils nor do good deeds, that in attributing this 
work of God to Satan, they called evil good and good 
evil, and that, thereby, they committed the sin against 
the Holy Spirit of God. While he was yet speaking, 
there came another knocking at the street door. It 
proved to be Jairus, the ruler of the Capernaum Syna- 
gogue, with his elders. They asked that the Master 
come and cure the soldier-servant of the centurion com- 
manding the Capernaum garrison, because the cen- 
turion, though a heathen, had built the local Synagogue 
and presented it to the congregation. The contrast of 
the request with the previous talk, its silent disagree- 
ment with the dreadful theory of the Jerusalem delega- 
tion, would have been farce-comedy if it had not been 
tragedy. It was far from lost on the crowd. 

The Master rose and went out, thereby clearing the 
house, for all trooped after him. Jairus, with the rulers 
of the Synagogue, surrounded him ; the Twelve mingled 
with them, and the Jerusalem delegation followed, ex- 
plaining to all who would listen, that Jairus and the 
centurion were wrong. This centurion, by the way, was 
a Roman, loaned by the imperial government to Herod, 
Tetrarch, for training troops, placed by Herod in com- 



THE HORNS OF HATTIN 99 

mand of the new city building for his capital, and 
therefore, a man practically acting as Tribune, very 
much as British captains are sometimes loaned to re- 
organize the troops of native states in India, and tem- 
porarily serve there as majors or colonels. 

Now, for a Jew to enter the house of a Gentile was, 
for the Jew, a serious matter. It "broke caste," made 
him unclean, involved a tedious, and somewhat expen- 
sive purification. As the centurion, having sent for the 
Master, sat by his comrade's bedside, and waited, he 
had time to think of all this, to revolve in his mind the 
stories he had heard of Yeshua Natzri, and to hit upon 
a way to save him this contamination and purification. 
He sent a messenger to stop him ; and, being a practical 
man, he knew how often messengers make mistakes, 
and therefore followed, himself. 

This seems to have been the first recorded meeting 
of the Master with a European. They saluted, and the 
centurion said: 

"Master, I am not worthy that you should come 
under my roof; but say the word and my servant shall 
be healed ; for I also am a man under discipline, and I 
say to one man, 'Go,' and he goeth, and to another, 
'Come,' and he cometh, and to another, 'Do this,' and 
he doeth it." 

The conversation had been in Greek. "Be it as thou 
wilt," said the Master, still in Greek. Then, in Ara- 
maic, "So great faith have I not found in all Israel." 

"Faith?" said Jude, aside, to Thomas, "Why, he is 
talking about military discipline!" 

"Both mean, 'Obey.' " 

"The centurion describes military discipline, Jude, 
but the Master calls it Faith." 

"Can they be the same, Thomas?" 

The Master and the centurion parted, having trans- 



100 MEN OF THE WAY 

acted their business in few words, and those few above 
the comprehension of the crowd, so that they had been 
as private as if they had been alone. The centurion 
strolled back to his servant's bedside to find him, as 
he expected, out of danger. 

"And now," said Jude to Thomas, with a hungry 
sigh ; "And now we will go home and lock and bar the 
doors, and have some supper." 




CHAPTER XVI 

BATHSHEBA 

HE Master, during his ministry, went once 
outside the Holy Land. After the first 
miracle of loaves and fishes, he abode on 
the borders of Phoenicia, where he cured the 
Syro-phoenician woman's daughter. He 
could not go to Jerusalem, because he would be killed ; 
nor stay at home, because Herod wished to see him and 
would invite him to court ; so he kept Passover just in- 
side Jewish territory, where he could cross the frontier 
at once ; and then he went north, up the coast through 
Phoenicia, to the border of Sidon, before he turned 
south-east across the mountains to the Dekapolis. 

So much is a matter of record, and also that the 
Twelve went with him ; but for the rest — silence. How 
long he took, what roads he followed, where he lodged 
in Tyre — these things were known to John and Levi- 
Matthew, but they did not write them. Tyre had de- 
clined since Alexander the Great built a causeway out 
to its unconquerable island, and sacked it, but still it 
was a name to conjure with. Few Christians know that 
Jesus of Nazareth, surrounded by the Twelve, once trod 
its half-deserted streets; or, at least, passed up the 
coast and looked down upon it from an hill-top. Tri- 
remes and Tyrian purple, Baal, and the priest of Ash- 
taroth, were at least as much part of his boyhood 
dreams as of ours; and he seems, in this one case, to 



102 MEN OF THE WAY 

have allowed himself to look at what he dreamed of 
as a boy. 

Somewhere in the Tyrian highland they rested. No 
man on foot can traverse Phoenicia in a day; and no 
man, even though he hurry from Tyre, and turn inland 
at the Sidonian border, can cross the sierra of the 
Libanon before nightfall. Jesus seems never to have 
hurried. We see him in some village, at the mouth of 
an obscure mountain pass, high upon the slope of the 
sierra, looking out over the fertile irrigated Phoeni- 
cian plain, to watch the many-twinkled laughter of the 
western waves. 

He was recognized, of course. There were not only 
heathen but Jews, and half -Jews, in all the border ham- 
lets; and the villages of this whole mountain-slope had 
disgorged their sick and insane upon him during his 
work in Galilee. His dealings with the Syro-phoeni- 
cian woman on the border, and the absence of any 
recorded cures, make it possible that he had healed 
no heathen outside the Holy Land, though certainly he 
cured Gentiles in the Dekapolis later. But that he had 
healed many, either Jews or heathen, from the neigh- 
borhood of Tyre and Sidon, who came to him in Gali- 
lee, is a matter of record. 

Therefore they knew him. Someone whom he had 
helped, offered him food and a bed. Someone took care 
of the weary Twelve. Perhaps he cured the few sick of 
so small a place. More likely the Twelve, to get him 
chance to rest, passed word among the people that he 
did no cures outside of his own country. At any rate, 
it is so well within the range of probability as to be 
practically certain, that he sat, one late afternoon, in 
a Phoenician village, high on the slope below a moun- 
tain pass, and looked west oversea. The people knew 
him for the good physician of Nazareth, but dared not 



BATHSHEBA 103 



disturb his meditations. The weary Twelve were rest- 
ing also, scattered in cottages or waiting at a distance. 

And so the inevitable happened. There is, of course, 
no record; but those who doubt need but reflect that, 
with human nature as it is, it must have happened 
somewhere, if not here. A little limping form crept 
through the bushes, a tiny sob aroused him and, de- 
taching his deep gaze from the great sea, he sheathed 
his spirit in the flesh again and looked around. Close 
to him stood a tiny girl, clad in the one inevitable 
scanty garment of the East, and trembling at her own 
temerity. She held, in her outstretched hands, a broken 
doll. She had stolen near to him, evading the grave 
grown people, for she had read his face. 

One long, long look between them, then — 

"Oh, Rabboni, Bathsheba!" 

"Bathsheba?" 

"Yes, Rabboni. Cure her. Her arm is broken. She 
will die." 

"Is this Bathsheba?" 

"Oh, Yeshua Natzri, cure her ! My father gave her. 
Now she will die too." 

"Have you no word for yourself, little maid? You 
yourself are lame." 

"Oh, Rabboni, Aunt Miriam said you must not be 
disturbed, but that you can cure anybody of anything. 
Bathsheba's arm is broken. See." 

"Is there a carpenter in this village?" 

"Yes, sir; Omri, the Hebrew." 

"Hold tight to Bathsheba then, and let us go. Is 
this the shop? Hail, Omri." 

"Jesus, thou son of David, hail." 

"Omri, I have need of your glue-pot — I see it heat- 
ing there — and a bit of string." 

"Sir, all that I have is thine. Last year thou didst 



104 MEN OF THE WAY 

heal mine only son. But is it fitting that the rightful 
king of Israel should mend small Miriam's broken doll ? 
Let me." 

"Nay, Omri. I also am a carpenter. 'Tis but a 
minute, when I have put Miriam down." 

There was a pause, while Miriam watched, fasci- 
nated. Then : "There, little maid, run home, put Bath- 
sheba carefully to bed upon a shelf, and by morning 
she will be well." 

"Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you ; but I cannot run." 

"Try it and see." 

A start, a cautious step, a gasp of joy, then, with 
a soft squeal of delight, the happy child danced from 
the door, and ran to tell her mother, while he, rested, 
perhaps amused and comforted, nodded kindly fare- 
well to Omri, and turned back to pray, and watch the 
sunset on the western sea. 




CHAPTER XVII 

SANEMAN 

OUR name?" 
"No need. It is enough you see me." 
"Cleon, the Greek, am I, and I love to deal 
with men whose names are known." 
"A sane man of Gadara am I, who once 
was mad, and I plan to be unknown, when my task 
is done." 

"Change name, then." 

"Not so ; for there is nothing false about him." 

"About whom?" 

"Jesus of Nazareth." 

"Must you so closely follow him as that?" 

"Friend Cleon, I must so closely follow him that 
utterly his spirit dwelleth in me, else am I all undone 
and mad again." 

"I do not understand." 

"No matter; you have sought me out. What would 
you?" 

"Saneman of Gadara, I am a physician of Antioch, 
not unknown, and being in Gamalia and hearing of your 
cure, I sought you out to learn of it more fully." 

"Why, I was demonized and now am free." 

"Of course, of course. How came you demonized, 
how long, and why? What know you of it? How did 
it feel ? I do not often meet those who can tell." 

"By what right, question you?" 



106 MEN OF THE WAY 

"By right of human suffering. I may learn from 
you some fact to help me to help others." 

"The right is sound. Know, then, Cleon, that, to 
my shame, the thing that gripped me was an unclean 
devil. My mind dwelt on lustful things — first by mine 
own will, then by no will of mine. Then I remember 
nothing. I cannot tell you how it felt, because for 
seven years I had no feeling. It is a blank. I waked 
to find myself at the Master's feet, naked, on a lake 
shore, with a vast herd of swine pouring down-hill past 
us into the lake." 

"Yea, I heard of those swine. The devils out of 
you went into them." 

"So the swineherds say. Myself, I see no need. 
Hundreds were cured, across the lake, and not one 
bullock lost, nor sheep, nor even goat, nor dog. So I 
preach cure to all the wretched hereabout, saying it 
can be done and cost no swine; and, bit by bit, they 
begin to believe me. When next the Master comes 
across the lake, many will come to him; and, oh, I 
pray that he come soon. There are so many and they 
need him so." 

"What does he do?" 

"He looks each in the eye and they shake and quail." 

"Why?" 

"Out of his eyes flows, as it were, fire ; kind fire." 

"But why, why, why?" 

"I do not know : and yet, in part, I do ; for I remem- 
ber, though dimly, how it was done with me. That 
which was not I in me was reckless, brutal, turbulent. 
It was roused, then beaten out. That which is I my- 
self was cowering far back in a corner. It was brought 
forward — oh, so ashamed, and so relieved, and free. 
What brought it forward was a sureness, which flowed 
from him, that God is our great Father, good and kind, 



SANEMAN 107 



and does not will that any be destroyed. If I had only 
known it from the first I could not so have sinned. 
Knowing it now, I have found pardon — pardon and 
clean, sharp strength." 

"If, then, I can, by any means, rouse hope in the 
gods in any darkened brain — " 

"What God is there to hope in, saving One? The 
gods of the Greeks, the gods of Syria, are patrons of 
all evil, fables, deified lusts of men. If they exist at 
all, then they are devils. No brain so darkened but it 
senses that." 

"He of the Hebrews, then—" 

"How shall a darkened brain attain to Him whom 
all the wisest of the world among the heathen have not 
known. No. You have one resource and but one. If 
you can rouse hope of any darkened brain in Jesus of 
Nazareth, why then — ah, then — " 

"I see, I see, I see. In the name of Jesus of Naza- 
reth—" 

"You have it. Hope in him leads men to God, and 
casts out devils." 

"Is there no other way?" 

"None other. You know the gods of Egypt and of 
Hind. l r ou know the Druids and their wicked cages 
of human sacrifice. You know the devils that the black 
men worship. Where, among all, is any hope for any 
darkened mind ? They have no sense of sin, and so no 
pledge of pardon. Only in Jesus, Jesus and his Father, 
is there full knowledge of all sinfulness and, with the 
knowledge, full forgiveness. At best, the others claim 
to keep men safe. None other saves the lost." 

"Saneman, almost thou persuadest me — " 

"Persuaded thou art already, and not by me, but 
by the very truth fo God. Lo, 'tis most obvious. 'Tis 
plain common sense. Try it on the next clouded brains 



108 MEN OF THE WAY 

you meet, and see how deep it stirs them." 

"Try it yourself." 

"I dare not. I have been a house for devils." 

''Come with me, then. There are maniacs in the 
hill-caves outside of every town. Find me one." 

"That is most sadly easy. Turn down this side street 
to the left. Follow this small ravine. Here dwells one 
who is almost harmless. If you fear, remember that, 
though sane, I once was mad and still have a mad- 
man's thews and sinews. Nay, look not doubtfully 
upon me. I am so based and grounded in the love of 
God through Jesus, nothing can touch me now." 

"Call out this madman." 

"Jochabed, Jochabed, Jochabed, come hither." 

"Do you know him?" 

"I take pains to know all such, against the time 
when He shall come and heal them." 

"Who calls me, Jochabed?" 

" 'Tis a mad voice, Saneman." 

"Fear nothing, Cleon. Jochabed, come out. Quit 
that crawling. Stand upright, like a man. Take those 
grass-stems out of your hair. Talk to him, Cleon." 

"Jochabed, how long have you been mad ?" 

"What's that to you?" 

"Nothing; but, to you, everything." 

"Who are you?" 

"One who trusts God and Jesus of Nazareth." 

"Jesus I know and Legion, here, I once knew, but 
who are you?" 

"Nay, rather, who are you?" 

"You have not stood at the eternal gates and 
watched the Sons of God go out and in. Y^ou would 
not know my name, were I to tell you. Go away." 

"Nay, rather, go you from this poor tenement you 
have infested." 



SANEMAN 109 



"Why, slave?" 

"A free Greek, I, of Antioch, and no slave, though 
a physician. What's more important, a free man of 
the universe, a servant of the Living God, who does 
not plan that you or yours should darken any one." 

"He plans very badly, then." 

"Not so. As a physician I know that some blow, 
some illness, some great anguish, saps man's defenses, 
and gives you gateway to the soul's citadel ; but 'tis not 
the wish of the Living God." 

"The Living God, He is too high for me, and for you 
also. Therefore, cease living, and go seek Him." 

"Halt. Steady, Saneman, I do not need defense. 
This poor thing cannot shake my steadfast soul, that 
rests on our Great Father. As for you, there, in the 
name of Jesus of Nazareth, who loves God, hush and 
come out of him. Catch him quick, Saneman. He 
grovels, foaming. Is he cured?" 

"The spasm passes. Let him answer for himself." 

"Cured? No. You are not close enough to God, 
physician. I hold this tenement, this resting-place, 
this caravanserai, this poor thing you call Jochabed, 
securely still. Now put your tail between your legs 
and droop your ears and slink away, lest I grow angry. 
I go to my cave, to sleep, for you do not know Jesus." 

"Jochabed, Jochabed, come back. He crawls off, 
Saneman. The treatment failed." 

"Yet almost it succeeded. His grasp was shaken." 

"Now I shall go across the lake and seek out Jesus, 
and watch him cure the demonized. It can be done. I 
see it can be done. The method is right, only I have 
not yet the power. Will you come with me?" 

"No. He has laid upon me to stay here and tell, 
in all the cities and their villages, the great things God 
hath done for me. If you should learn to cast out 



110 MEN OF THE WAY 

devils, look to it that you join the Twelve or else they 
may forbid you. Jews are jealous." 

"I trust in one God, Father of us all ; but I cannot 
join the Twelve. He has not asked me. I cannot even 
join the disciples, for they would not have me. I am a 
Gentile, not a Jew. I cannot follow with them." 

"True, true. Yet what you did shows that you can 
learn more. God give you grace to cast out devils in 
the name of Jesus, brother Cleon." 

"You call me 'Brother'? Why?" 

"Because we both believe God is our Father, and all 
believing men are Sons of God. Tell the Master, if 
you can, that my whole soul longs to be with him, but 
I am here obeying orders and that I carry out his word. 
Would God I might go with you now and see him." 

"Nay, better to obey and serve him here, until he 
come to you. God bless you, brother Saneman; we 
shall meet again, I think — before a throne." 




CHAPTER XVIII 

THE LITTLE LAME BOY 

HAKE the dust off your feet against the 
village, John !" 

"Wait, James; not yet. Why did Yeshua 
name us James and John Lightning?" 
"Because we act all in a flash, of course." 

"There was affection and amusement in the nick- 
name. Was there no warning?" 

"Oh, well; content, John, then, content. What 
would you do?" 

"There was a face there at a window of that last 
house; a weary child's face." 

"Children's faces are not weary." 

"This was. How can we enter?" 

"Go to the door and knock, of course. The frank 
way is always the best way. Yeshua's messengers must 
do nothing secret." 

"It looks deserted, James." 

"So much the better. If all the grown folk are in 
the village, no one can cast us out. Hullo, within there, 
little son! Where are you?" 

"Hippety hop, hippety hop. Hear that little crutch." 

"The child is lame, John, and the house has a stone 
floor." 

"So have the hearts of those who own it. Listen." 

"Who are you, sirs?" 



112 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Yeshua's men — Yeshua of Nazareth — come to cure 
you." 

"The prophet of Nazareth, who loves little children? 
Oh, I have heard of him ; but, sirs, the door is locked." 
"Come to the window, then. How old are you?" 
"Seven; but Martha says I am no larger than a 
child of five." 

"Why does she lock you in?" 

"She don't. I locked myself by accident, letting the 

latch fall. Therefore I cannot play under the fig-tree." 

"This Martha, John, is not so cruel as you thought !" 

"Perhaps so, James. Little son, will not the latch 

lift if you stand on a stool?" 

"No; it is stuck. But it will lift if you push the 
door towards me. I am not strong enough to pull it. 
There, 'tis done. Enter." 

(A very small boy, with a lame leg, and a crutch 
tucked under one arm, stands balanced on one foot in 
the doorway, trying to bow and do the honors. The 
house is a one-room, mud hut, bare of furniture except 
a clay divan at one end, with some tattered rugs on it. 
There is a charcoal furnace and a water-jar. Nothing 
else. ) 

"The boy is chubby, John. Martha does not stint 
him." 

"Martha? Oh, Martha is a darling!" 

"Is she your mother?" 

"No, my aunt. Mother and father died in the great 
sickness, five years ago. She nursed them and me." 

"I think, John, your deduction concerning floors 
and hearts was hasty. What is your name, little son ?" 

"David ; after the shepherd king, who was so strong 
a warrior." 

"Well, David, this is James, and I am John. What 
has become of your Aunt Martha?" 



THE LITTLE LAME BOY 113 

"She is gleaning. She plucks olives, picks grapes 
for the vintage, dries figs, and works in many ways. 
Summer is nice. The hard time is the winter." 

"And what of you, David?" 

"Oh, I plait grass into mats, and I know how to 
weave baskets, such as you both wear at your side for 
haversacks." 

"Do you not long to run and play?" 

"Of course; but Martha says it must be God's will 
that I cannot. The sickness left me so." 

"I doubt if it be God's will, David. I doubt if any 
little child be sick or lame according to God's will; 
and the proof is that we have come to cure you." 

"Oh, please sirs, how?" 

"Is there any oil in the house?" 

"No, sir. We ate it all upon our bread." 

"Look if there be a little, even a drop or two, in 
the bottom of the jar. Yes, that will do. Pour it into 
my hand. Now pick him up, James, crutch and all, 
and let us all go out under the fig tree and kneel down 
and pray. 

"O Lord, my God, dear Father of us all, loose this 
thy little son whom Satan has bound these many years, 
O Lord, hear! O God, save! O Father, help! 

"Now, David, I mark the oil upon your forehead, 
palms, and feet, and the lame leg. Kneel, and ask God 
to make you well and strong." 

"O Heavenly Father, Martha says Yeshua Bardawid 
has cured so many little children. He would have 
cured me if he had ever come here, but she could not 
take me, because he moved from place to place so 
quickly, and has so many people round him that little 
lame boys cannot get to him. I think he must have 
thought of that because here are James and John. 
Please let them cure me." 



114 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Your hands upon his head, James, covering mine. 
Now, pray as never we have prayed before. Now, little 
son, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, rise up and 
walk." 

"Oh, John, James, is it real ?" 

"Catch him, John, or he falls. Stick the crutch up 
in the fig tree out of the way. Now, let him walk to 
me, then back to you. Teach him to step out boldly. 
Now, David, take my hand and let us run to the corner 
of the house and back. There, boldly done. When 
you grow older, you shall outrun King David. Now, 
by yourself and back. Now, jump. Again. Let's see 
how far you can jump." 

"Oh, there comes Martha!" 

"Then run and meet her." 

"Not so, John. I have a better plan. Let us hide 
behind the wall and, David, you pretend nothing has 
happened, and then show her. Quick, John." 

"David! Oh, David!" 

"What is it, Martha dear?" 

"Are you safe? The children said two strangers 
came this way. They tried to make a speech in the 
village and the rabbi said they were dangerous, and 
ordered them out. It looked as if they turned in here." 

"Yes, Martha, they did turn in here. They are 
James and John, Yeshua Bardawid's men." 

"Why do you sit so still? Where is your crutch? 
Did they steal it?" 

"They cured me, Martha. Oh, I can't wait. See! 
Oh, James, John, help ! Martha has fallen down." 

"Don't be afraid. A little water will make her wake 
.up; but now we must go quickly, John, or we cannot go 
at all." 

"Go? If you do, who will cure little Miriam Bath 
Saul? And lame-backed Jonas? And Mary Neri's 



THE LITTLE LAME BOY 115 

baby who is sick? Oh, don't go that way. Go back to 
the village. I mustn't leave Martha, or I would take 
your hands and pull you." 

"Then, David, we will wait a little, and you and 
Martha shall go with us to cure the other little children. 
What say you, James ?" 

"Content, John." 

"James?" 

"Yes, John." 

"Don't you think your deduction about wiping off 
the dust of your feet against this village, that it might 
be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah at Judg- 
ment than for these, was just a little hasty?" 

"Oh, peace, John Lightning." 




CHAPTER XIX 

TOUCHING THE LEPER 

UDE, Jude, the Master surnamed you Leb- 
baeus, ' jolly,' and me ' the less,' meaning 
in age, as well you know. Is it then fair to 
Him or me, even through you are jolly, to 
jest of me to all as ' Little Jim ?' " 
The speaker, a magnificent figure of a man, drew 
himself up to his full height, and squared his shoulders ; 
then he laid one massive hand on Jude's arm. Jude was 
a red Jew, short, blonde, and plump, with an engaging 
smile. He surveyed James Baralphaeus shrewdly, and 
so long that an answering smile stole to James' lips. 
"Nay, little Jim, it is not fair; and yet you solemn 
princes in Israel have utterly misjudged my Yeshua. 
He does not laugh, for sadness of this sinful world ; but 
he smiles often. He loves little children — a thing you 
are too dignified to do. He has more keenness of wit 
in his little finger than you in your whole lumbering 
body ; and he sees the sad, absurd, heartbreaking, and 
most lovable humor of this world, as you eleven cannot. 
Why, man, I catch a twinkle in his eye a dozen times a 
day ; we share the jest together over your heads and love 
each other for it, even when our hearts are breaking. 
I am not great or wise or able, like the rest of you. He 
knows me well enough — why choose me one of the 
twelve unless there is in him something that answers 



TOUCHING THE LEPER 117 

to the hearty joy of life. I tell you that you much mis- 
judge our Yeshua." 

"Well, well, let it be so, brother. Perhaps you are 
right; but in the next village do not speak of me as 
' Little Jim/ " 

"Content, if it so please you. I will wait till village 
after next. Are we to turn, or keep straight on ?" 

"I do not know. Try turning by the cliff." 

"Unclean ! Unclean !" 

"What have we here, James?" 

"A leper. Friend, what do you here so far from any 
village?" 

"Who calls a leper, 'friend'?" 

"I do. James Baralphaeus, one of Christ's men." 

"O, God of Israel, praise. I have so often heard of 
him. Is he coming?" 

"No need. He hath sent us, to preach the good news, 
cure the sick, give sight to blind, cast out demons, raise 
the dead, and cleanse all lepers." 

"Did he say lepers ?" 

"He did, most clearly." 

"Have you healed any since he sent you out?" 

"You are the first. We hear the others have cleansed 
many." 

"The others? How mean you?" 

"Yeshua sent out six pair of us, two and two. Mean- 
while, he goes himself to our home cities." 

"Oh, sirs, will you heal me?" 

"Have you faith?" 

"Since Yeshua Bardawid sent you, I know that you 
can heal me if you will. I was a rich man once. Per- 
haps there are some fragments of my fortune left. I — " 

"Thy money perish with thee." 

"Oh^ sirs, not that, not that. What shall I do?" 

"Do ? Why, repent you of your sins, and pray God's 



118 MEN OF THE WAY 

pardon. Would you have dared to offer money to 
Yeshua Bardawid?" 

"No." 

"Then be ashamed to offer it to us. We might 
almost be excused, were we not to cure you." 

"You said he said, 'all lepers'." 

"True. Therefore we must forgive. Your name?" 

"I was once Bar Eli ; Abdar bar Eli." 

"A son of Israel?" 

"Yea." 

"Then Abdar bar Eli, son of Israel, in the name of 
Jesus of Nazareth, be thou clean. Go show thyself to 
the priest, and say of thy cleansing as little publicly as 
possible." 

"Why that injunction, James?" 

"Yeshua gave it!" 

"Abdar bar Eli?" 

"Oh, Israel's God be good to you." 

"Are you cured?" 

"Why, yes ; that is, I think so." 

"Do you not know within yourself?" 

"Nay, truly. I feel no different. Y r et I must be 
cured. So many have been." 

"Strip off the bandages that we may see some part 
of your flesh. How is it, James?" 

"Ugh! No change, Jude. No cure." 

"Why?" 

"What said Yeshua?" 

"Pray, lay on hands, anoint with oil. We have 
but prayed." 

"We have no oil." 

"Then lay on hands." 

"Back, Jude. Why, lad, he who touches lepers grows 
a leper." 

"Did Yeshua?" 



TOUCHING THE LEPER 1 19 

"No. But cured him. What if you fail to cure?" 

"Then am I leper like to this; but Yeshua gave us 
power. Stand aside, James. I am of small account in 
the Brotherhood. You are my elder brother and, after 
Yeshua, head of our house; but in this matter I obey 
Yeshua, not you. Unless we try, this Thing dies hope- 
less. Look at it grovel." 

"Oh, mercy, mercy, mercy." 

"Abdar bar Eli, leper, on your head I lay my hand. 
Ugh ! In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, be thou clean. 
What happens, James ?" 

"Nothing. He is not cured." 

"Perhaps the thing takes time." 

"With Jeshua it did not." 

"Then am I — Oh, it cannot be. Take your hand off 
my shoulder, James. Stand back. Touch me not. Un- 
clean, unclean." 

"Nay, Jude, pray you. Pray both of us. Pray greatly. 
Then I try." 

"Oh, James, not so. You are, after Yeshua, head 
of the house and King of Israel. I was of small account, 
but you — you must not risk it. Go rather, and fetch 
Yeshua." 

"If, after Yeshua, I am head of the house and king, 
take you my orders. Lay your hands upon his head; 
both hands, on top of mine. O, God of Israel, we trusted 
in Thee and obeyed Yeshua. Leave us not in this dis- 
aster. Cleanse this leper and us. Abdar bar Eli, in the 
name of Jesus of Nazareth, be thou clean." 

"James?" 

"Hush — wait — pray, Jude, pray. What is it, Abdar?" 

"Something — I know not what — I am dizzy. It 
leaps and tingles in my veins. Let me lie down in the 
dust, and give God thanks." 

"For what? For what?" 



120 MEN OF THE WAY 

"That He hath cleansed me." 

"Nay, come and wash, like Naaman. Here is an 
irrigation channel. James, his flesh is pink, like baby's 
flesh, where the water touches. Abdar bar Eli, go to 
the Temple and show yourself to the priest. Why could 
I not cleanse him, James?" 

"Jude, it takes two, I think." 

"One of whom is willing to become a leper to save 
his brother. Never again shall I jest of you, Little 
Jim." 




CHAPTER XX 

THE MAN PARALYZED 

HO are you, sirs, and why in my poor house?" 
"I brought them, Grandfather. They cured 
men in the market-place. Their eyes are 
kind. The big man, when he heard of you, 
said they would cure you, too." 

"Alas, child, none can do that — or only one. If I 
could drag myself to Yeshua Bardawid — " 

"We come from him. This is James, son of Alphaeus, 
and I am his brother Jude. You may have heard the 
names, for both of us are disciples of the Master, and 
his cousins." 

"Yea, I have heard that you are princes in Israel. 
Your pardon that I cannot rise to great you." 

"Then rise!" 

"But, sirs, I cannot." 

"If you had known us not, or had not known our 
lineage, and had taken us for peasants, as we seem, 
pardon were yours. If you had never heard of Yeshua 
Natzri, or hearing, you had not believed his power, 
pardon were yours. But you know who we are, and 
what is due us; you know that we are sent by Yeshua 
for cure. Therefore, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, 
rise up and greet us !" 

"Sirs — you are unreasonable — I cannot — O, God of 
Israel, what's this?" 

"Catch him, Jude, ere he fall forward." 



122 MEN OF THE WAY 

"I walk ! I stand ! I walk l» 

"Then leap in the air." 

"Oh, Princes, Princes, Princes!" 

"Nay, thank God, and after Him, Yeshua Natzri. 
'Tis by the power of God, through Him, we cure, not 
by ourselves. Now sin no more, lest a worse thing 
come upon you." 

"What mean you, sirs?" 

"We mean, ' Lift up your heart.' Y r ou had grown 
forgetful that God loves you." 

"Whom? Me?" 

"Yes, you. Sin thus no more." 

"What? God loves me?" 

"Why, slow of heart, if any babe were given you at 
birth, and brought up in the room with you, the women 
tending it, but you knowing all ; if, as a child, it slept 
in the hollow of your arm, waked in the night to grope 
your hand for sense of safety, and cried out for you; 
if you trained it, taught it to walk and talk, guided its 
toddling steps, knew its every thought, are you so tiger- 
hearted that you would not care? Tigers themselves 
would love it — and so would you — and so does God." 

"We forfeit such love later." 

"And you, a man with children! Punish we must, 
at times, but never cease to love. No more does He." 

"He punished." 

"I doubt it. I greatly doubt if God send any sick- 
ness, but rather hates it, as He hates lying, lewdness, 
and idolatry. However, your punishment, if it were 
punishment, is over. Underneath are the everlasting 
arms. Eest you secure now in the love of God." 

"But — but — this is a greater thing than cure. Why, 
if God love me, then must I live in love of Him and all 
the world turns golden; for He will give me what is 



THE MAN PARALYZED 123 

best for me and take me home at last to — to live with 
Him." 

"And you, a man with grandchildren, and not know 
that till now ! Why, this small mannikin, who brought 
us, thinks better of you than you have done of God. 
Learn you from him. When you can think of God as 
this big-eyed boy thinks of you, then come to Yeshua 
Natzri and learn more. In the mean time, farewell." 

"Nay, sirs, your fee, your fee. Leave me not. What 
if the thing return?" 

"Here is your small physician. Return it will not, 
if you learn of him. As for the fee, 'tis everything you 
own and all you are, laid at the feet of God, then taken 
up again to use for Him. Be you a father to all around 
you, as He is father to you. And now farewell, until 
we meet again." 

"Oh where, sirs, where?" 

"Before our Father's throne." 




CHAPTER XXI 
THE MADMAN 

IKS, be persuaded. Leave us not." 
"Why stay? Our message is given, and all 
your sick are cured. 'Twas possible, because 
you have had greater faith than most. Now 
fare ye well." 

"But how of others that fall ill?" 

"Cure them yourselves. Fast, pray, and lay on hands. 
Or, if that be too much for your new-budding faith, 
bring them to Yeshua." 

"Nay, one more thing." 

"What is it?" 

"Go not that way." 

"What, is not this the shortest path to Gersa ?" 

"Shortest in steps, perhaps, but all eternity in time." 

"How mean you?" 

"Under the limestone cliff, midway between the 
villages, there is a tomb. Within the tomb, a demon." 

"Mean you one demonized?" 

"Oh, yes, the thing has flesh and spirit. It prowls 
and prowls. It lives on sheep and goats — their bones 
are in the cave — and men's bones also." 

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning all horror." 

"Slay then." 

"Smitten of God — afflicted — we dare not slay the 
demonized." 



THE MADMAN 125 



"What think you, Andrew?" 

"A madman. As for the rest, a village tale with 
which old wives frighten children. Shall we turn back, 
Captain Peter?" 

"I never turned back yet on Yeshua's business, and 
have scant stomach for it now. Ho, you of Bathabara, 
guide us." 

"Sirs, we dare not." 

"Then follow, follow and call. So shall you guide, 
and yet, his coming fall on us ! Then flee, or watch the 
outcome from afar. Where is your faith, ye fainthearted 
of Israel?" 

"We follow and pray. Pray ye also, and greatly, 
good fishermen." 

"Peter ! Andrew !" 

"What is it, friends?" 

"We come very close. There it is, to the right, by 
the side of the path, in the bushes." 

"Draw ye back then. Ho, dweller in the tombs, 
where are you?" 

"Who calls me?" 

"Those who have right. Come here." 

"I come, I come. Then we will see who has the 
Aght. Who calls me?" 

"Yeshua Natzri's men." 

"Yeshua Natzri I know, but who are you?" 

"Simon and Andrew, men of his. Stop that crawling. 
Come out of the bushes. Drop that club. Who is this 
poor tenement of clay you have infested?" 

"His name was Simon also. Mine is — " 

"What's that to me. Yeshua knows you all, but we 
do not. How long have you been in him?" 

"Ten years in all, and five of them with power." 

"Then, leave him." 

"Who are you that I should — " 



126 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Yeshua's men, I tell you! Look, and see that we 
tell truth, and have his power behind us. In the name 
of Jesus of Nazareth, hush and come out of him." 

"Arrrragh !" 

"Come forward now, good villagers, and pick him up. 
When he awakens, he will be sane. Nay, be bolder. He 
wakens now." 

"Where am I?" 

"With friends, Simon. Best. You have been ill." 

"Your names?" 

"I, Simon also; this, my brother Andrew." 

"I seem to myself strong and well." 

"The illness was of spirit, not of body." 

"I have had dreams. It was not? — oh, say it was 
not? — Did you cure me?" 

"In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, we cast it out." 

"O God, be merciful to me, a sinner! Who is this 
Jesus of Nazareth? Why am I naked? What shall 
keep the evil from returning?" 

"Ye who are cured, give us, as fee, garments for this 
poor soul. Let some one run and fetch them. Simon, 
sane man, go to the nearest irrigation ditch, and wash. 
Thank God, and come again. We await you here. Fol- 
low, one of you, and see that he comes. Andrew, what 
keeps the evil from returning?" 

"Yeshua says that when the evil spirit is cast out, 
he wanders through dry places seeking rest ; and finding 
none, he says I will return unto my home whence I 
came out; and, coming, he finds it empty, swept and 
garnished. Then he takes to him seven other evil 
spirits, worse than himself, and they enter in and dwell 
there and the last state of that man is worse than the 
first, unless — " 

"Unless?" 



THE MADMAN 127 



"Unless when he return, he find the house not 
empty." 

"Who shall fill it?" 

"God." 

"How shall God enter?" 

"I think through Yeshua. At least, for the time 
being, to perfect the cure, 'twere better Yeshua saw 
him. Here he comes back again. Thanks, Jonas. Hail, 
Simon, sane man." 

"Jonas tells me I have been mad five years, Simon 
Stone." 

"Nay, ten. No matter. You have all eternity to be 
sane in." 

"What if the Thing come back?" 

"Again, no matter. Let it find you at the feet of 
Yeshua Natzri, our Master, and it can touch you not." 

"Is that the law? But what if he be gone?" 

"Those who worship God and serve man for God's 
sake, are close to Yeshua Natzri though all the world 
stretch between. Here come the clothes. Thanks, Bar- 
sabas. Put them on, Simon, and come with us." 

"Where?" 

"To serve others; to make the blind to see, and the 
deaf to speak, and the lame to walk. To free others 
demonized, to cleanse lepers, perhaps to raise the dead. 
And then, at last, to — " 

"To Jesus." 




CHAPTER XXII 
THE LAME MAN AND ANDREW 

EY, old hippety-hop. Dot and carry one, 
how goes it?" 

"Shame on you, sons of Israel, to jest 
a lame man. He too is of Jacob." 

"Sirs, if yon dare interfere to save an 
old man from the jeers of young ones, you are kinder 
than most — and braver." 

"The boys mean no harm; they merely fail to under- 
stand. Is it not so, boys?" 

"Is what so, sir?" 

"I said you meant no harm, but only jested, and did 
not know that jokes to a lame man upon his lameness, 
hurt like raw flesh under the whiplash." 

"Is it as bad as that ? We did not mean to. He walks 
so funny, and we like to see him shake his fist at us." 

"What lamed you, Barjacob?" 

"Herod the Great, accursed be his name ; and yet, I 
should not blame him. He did not know, nor mean it. 
I have heard that you preach forgiveness under penalty 
of no cure. I would be cured ; and it is sober truth that 
Herod did not mean it." 

"Can you then forgive him?" 

"I hurt a man once, slinging at a wolf a stone that 
glanced. It was no fault of mine. The man bore grudge 
against me." 

"Was he wrong?" 



THE LAME MAN AND ANDREW 129 

"Of course. Yes, I forgive Herod." 

"And these wild boys, who know no better?" 

"Yes, though it be hard; but I was once a careless 
boy myself." 

"What is the matter with you?" 

"A devil dwells in my joints — a lurking, jeering 
devil, that twists me o' cold nights. See how my knees 
are swollen." 

"A gloomy devil that makes black your mind, eh, 
Bar Jacob? 

"How knew you?" The gloom is worse than the 
pain." 

"Well, well ; a hard case to bear, yet easy to cure. 
'Tis not a devil but a sickness, Barjacob; at least, I 
think so; though it may be that behind most sickness 
lies power of a devil. Yet not all sick are demonized. 
Have you faith?" 

"What mean you?" 

"Believe you we can cure you?" 

"Certainly; if you will." 

"Then kneel — I know 'tis hard — ease yourself down. 
Hold by the wall. Now pray to God for mercy, con- 
fessing to Him your sins." 

"They are too many." 

"Then the worst ones." 

"Silently, or aloud?" 

"In silence. Who are we, to come between you and 
God? Try out your life by rule of God's command- 
ments, and tell Him where you fail." 

"Give me a moment's silence. Now, 'tis done." 

"Now, are you willing, Barjacob, to promise that, 
where your sins have injured others, you will repair the 
damage, so far as lieth in your power?" 

"Yea, He helping me; though almost I had rather 
have the pain. 'Tis a large price to pay for health." 



130 MEN OF THE WAY 

"But cheap for salvation. What shall it profit a 
man, saith Yeshua, if he keep the whole world, and lose 
his own soul?" 

"So be it." 

"Have you, Bar Jacob, among other things, had in- 
sight to confess the breaking of the second command- 
ment, against idolatry?" 

"Why, nonsense, man. I never worshipped idols in 
my life." 

"'Tis not against idols only but anything, and wor- 
ship is acknowledgment of worth. Have you acknowl- 
edged ever anything as worth more to you, for the time 
being, than your God?" 

"Acknowledged? No. What mean you?" 

"Acknowledged, by your life. Have you so lived, 
at any time, as to show that something, or someone else 
seemed worth more to you than God?" 

"Who gave you such a thought of the second law?" 

"Yeshua did .," 

"If he be right, then is my life one long idolatry." 

"Confess, repent, forsake, then, and reform." 

"But oh, if l r eshua be right, then can I live at peace 
with God ; for it is simple truth that nothing is worth 
while compared with Him. I know, have always known 
it, from a tiny child at my old mother's knee. Behind 
and underneath forgetfulness I know the thing is true. 
Why, thank you, Princes ! I will return unto my God 
whom I had forgotten. I will arise and seek Jehovah's 
face. Oh Lord, my God! I prized my strength above 
you and am crippled. I prized my youth above you and 
am old ; my place and am cast out ; my king and am for- 
saken ; my wealth and am penniless ; my wife and she is 
dead; my children and outlive them. I am a very 
feeble, foolish, weak, old man, but oh my Lord, my God, 
I can remember Thee. Then shall it matter nothing 



THE LAME MAN AND ANDREW 131 

what here becomes of me. Remembering Thee, I shall 
go down to death like one in beggar rags, who hides a 
mighty jewel in his bosom and comes unto a king. 
My wife remembered God and serves Him now. My 
little children stand and praise before Him. Stupid, 
dull, blind, I had forgotten. Forgive me, God, who had 
forgotten Thee." 

"Peter, he has forgotten us also. He has risen, and 
stands square upon his feet, and straight, like a young 
man. I think he needs no cure." 

"Orders are orders, Andrew. Bar Jacob, in the name 
of Jesus of Nazareth, be thou cured. Remain so. Has 
it struck you that you are well and the pains gone, 
man?" 

"Why so — why so I am. Thank you, young sirs. 
But, by the side of what you have done for me, cure of 
the body is as nothing." 

"Yet is the body exceedingly convenient to earn a 
morsel of bread to eat, and another to give away. Know, 
too, that we of ourselves have done nothing for you. It 
is the power of God through Jesus of Nazareth which 
has cured your soul and healed your body and satisfied 
your empty heart, homesick for God, our Father." 

"For— for whom?" 

"For God, our Father. Know you not the good 
news, so very old 'tis new again, which Yeshua teaches, 
as David did, and Moses, and the Prophets, that we are 
Sons of God, for God is our Father?" 

"I do not understand. God is our King; a good 
king, kind and loving." 

"Who made you?" 

"My father begat me." 

"Who made a world, where fathers beget sons?" 

"Why, God did." 

"Who made you then?" 



132 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Why, in a sense, God did." 

"Was it as carpenters make tables, or putting some- 
thing of His nature into yon, as sons resemble fathers ?" 

"Not — not as a carpenter makes a table — of course 
not — what saith the Scripture? — made in the image of 
God — but wait ! The whole world rocks and reels with 
such a thought. Mean you — mean you that there is 
that divine in me of which God is the father?" 

" 'Tis the old secret, sung by David, preached by the 
prophets, known even to Adam, forgotten by his sons, 
revealed again by Jesus of Nazareth." 

"What, I ? — old ? — crippled ? — worn? — poor ?— 
humble?" 

"Old? — you have just begun eternity. Crippled? 
You're straight and healed. — Worn? Your heart has 
found eternal youth at last. Poor? — Your father owns 
the universe and will give you what you need. — 
Humble? All men are God's little children, serving 
Him or wandering in the dark, in either case as good 
as you and to be treated brotherly ; but you as good as 
they, being a Son of God." 

"Leave me not, princes. Brothers, turn not to go." 

"Nay; seek your weaker brethren. Help and tend, 
that they may listen. Then, teach. When you have 
taught, come and learn more." 

"Of whom?" 

"Of Jesus." 

"Where?" 

"Wherever he may be. Ask, seek, and find." 




CHAPTER XXIII 
THE TOMBS OF THE DEMONIZED 

AJL Peter." 

"Nay, woe, Philip. Israel is undone. John 
Baptist is dead." 

"Nathaniel and I heard, under shadow of 
Mount Carmel." 

"And Andrew and I, on the borders of Phoenicia." 

"And John and I, at Baneas. Has God yet smitten 
Herod?" 

"No, nor will not, at least not yet. His cup is not 
yet full." 

"What mean you?" 

"No more than instinct; yet, I know we have not 
done with Herod." 

"Where is Yeshua?" 

"Capernaum, most likely. He went to our home 
cities. Now we must haste to him, for he will need 
us. All Israel heaves and mutters. Never was such a 
day, to make him king and slay the Komans." 

"Not slay, Simon. He shall rule them." 

"Well, well, he will decide. We guessed your com- 
ing, Philip ; but had no thought to find John and James 
with you." 

"But we guessed yours, Andrew, and so came. Now 
for Capernaum quickly. What is shortest way?" 

"Here, past the crags and through that little val- 
ley." 



134 MEN OF THE WAY 

"The valley of the empty tombs? Not so. The 
demonized of Sephet herd and kennel there." 

"What of it?" 

"Why, if we cure them we shall be delayed. If not, 
we shall be dead." 

"I never yet turned back on Yeshua's business. Now, 
when we are to make him king, is no time to begin." 

"Lead then; we follow." 

"Halt, there! Unclean! Unclean!" 

"What do you lepers with the demonized?" 

"They dare not touch us. Besides it would not 
matter if they did. Whence come you, that ye know 
not this end of the ravine of Sheol is for lepers?" 

"Name you this passage Sheol?" 

"Yea, truly. All here were better dead." 

"I'm not so sure of that. Some can be cured. Why 
went ye not to Jesus of Nazareth?" 

"There were so many. We are too far gone. We 
did not believe." 

"Did not, or do not?" 

"Do — no, did not. One from among us went to him, 
was cured, went to the priests at the Temple, then 
came back to talk to us. Cured he was, most surely." 

"Where is he now?" 

"In the nearest village, and strives to have us go to 
Jesus. Perhaps we would, but know not where to find 
him." 

"Have you then faith?" 

"We had not then, but now we have." 

"Then be clean." 

"What mean you?" 

"Kneel, and be clean!" 

"Why?— what?— " 

"We are Yeshua Bardawid's men, Yeshua Natzri's 



THE TOMBS OF THE DEMONIZED 135 

men, apostles of Jesus of Nazareth, in haste to go to 
him, but under orders to clean up, as we go." 

"O, God of Israel, what's this?" 

" What is it, Gamiel ?" 

"The power of God is on me, my flesh tingles. Kneel 
all of you, kneel and be clean." 

"Nothing happens to me." 

"Peter, these lepers have less faith than most. We 
must lay hands on them." 

"So be it, Andrew. Kneel, ye friends of folly. 
Shall this great power of God come to your very tomb- 
doors and you refuse it? Gamiel, you are healed al- 
ready, and need nothing. As for the rest, we lay our 
hands upon you, so, and so, and so. O God of Israel, 
hold not their sins against them, but in the name of 
Jesus of Nazareth, cleanse these Thy poor, foolish 
children. Go, show yourselves to the priests, and make 
as little public mention of your cure as may be." 

"O God of Israel, praise! My flesh creeps and 
tingles !" 

"And mine!" 

"And mine!" 

"All's well, then. Go, get you gone, and cry 'un- 
clean' no more." 

"Then, who shall guard you through the valley? 
For if we cry 'unclean,' the demonized shrink back; 
if not, they slay." 

"Will you, just healed by God's great power, walk, 
even for kindly cause, with a lie in your lips? Be not 
afraid for us. God guards us through the valley. Fol- 
low and see. How many of them are there?" 

"A dozen, perhaps; all slayers. The milder ones 
have fled — or disappeared. 'Tis hard to tell their num- 
ber, for at night they change and wander." 



136 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Put hands to mouth in trumpet-wise, John Zebe- 
dee — your voice is clearest — and call them." 

"Content, Peter. Ahoy, ahoy. Ho, all ye demons 
of this earthly Sheol, come out, come out and show 
yourselves." 

"Who calls us from our tombs?" 

"Come out, come out, come all, here is one needs slay- 
ing!" 

"Ha— ha— ha— ha !" 

"Peter, I do not wonder that they call this Sheol. 
Halt, you there on the left. Stand up. Now, in the 
name of Yeshua Natzri, come hither." 

"Yeshua Natzri we know, but who are you?" 

"His men. Look well at us, and see. Keep the rest 
in play, Peter, while I meet this one. Stand still. Look 
me between the eyes, that you may see I have his power. 
Now, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, come out of 
him." 

"Ho, ho! You have not strength enough." 

"Who ever dreamed I had? Not I. But He has 
strength enough. Hush, and come out. Come here, 
you shaggy creature on the left. Lord God of Israel, 
we cannot cleanse them all. They scatter. Send them 
back to us. That is better. Draw you together with 
him there, you three. Now, in the name of Jesus Christ 
of Nazareth, come out of them. How goes it Peter, 
Andrew, Philip, with yours?" 

"All cast out, John. When the devils cease to tear 
them, they will awaken sane." 

"Well done. Let us go on." 

"Not so, not so. There may be poor souls, still 
demonized and hidden in the tombs, to come out when 
we leave, and kill these cured and helpless. Besides, 
unless we safeguard the souls of these cured as well as 
their bodies, the devils will return and cause relapse. 



THE TOMBS OF THE DEMONIZED 137 

Did not Yeshua say that after a time the devils always 
return and, if they find their honse empty, reenter?" 

"What would you?" 

"Search the tombs." 

"Did you not pray aloud to God to gather them 
together, and see Him grant it?" 

"True, Philip; but I meant and thought of only 
those in sight." 

"Then, take you the tombs on the right hand. We 
the left. Will you stay, James, and guard these?" 

"Yea, truly. They awaken. Ho, friend, what is 
it?" 

"Where am I ?" 

"In the valley called 'SheoF near Sephet in Galilee. 
I am James Barzebedee. Who are you?" 

"Simon, surnamed the Strong, of Caesarea. How 
came I here?" 

"I do not know. We found you. You were ill. We 
cured you." 

"Who are these, who waken round us like wounded 
from some battle ?" 

"Men cured like you." 

"A rocky pass — caves and tombs — I am naked — 
hair-matted — filthy. Barzebedee, my soul shakes. Name 
the illness." 

"Know you, then, nothing?" 

"Nothing since Caesarea." 

"We cast a devil out of you." 

"What keeps him from returning?" 

"Power of God, through Yeshua Bardawid." 

"I know him not." 

"We know him. That is enough. We are his men. 
Help me to gather these poor folk together, and then 
talk further. Ho, friends, come here. Come forward 
now you clean men who were lepers. Take in your care 



138 MEN OF THE WAY 

these sane men who were demonized. You all need 
food and clothes. Have any here a friend who will 
believe the power God has shown upon you?" 

"We know of none." 

"Then go to the cleansed leper in the nearby village 
who has seen Y T eshua. He will help you. Say that a 
Christman sent you." 

"Let us wait here till dark since we have no cloth- 
ing." 

"Of course. When you are fed and clothed, go 
you cleansed to the priests and make as little public 
mention of your cures as may be. As for you, sane 
men, after a time, says Yeshua, the demon will return. 
If he find you dwelling in your own strength, he will 
reenter and your last state shall be worse than the 
first. But if he find God dwelling in your hearts, then 
ye are safe. When fed and clad seek out, therefore, 
Yeshua Natzri, and learn from him how to draw near 
to God. Here come the rest. Ho, Peter, found you 
others?" 

"None." 

"Where is John then?" 

"Oh, he found one and went after him, into a cave." 

"And you not with him?" 

"No need. God was with him. He awaits the cured 
man's wakening now, within." 

"How know you?" 

"How else? There he comes now, bringing his cured 
man with him. Let us hasten." 

"Content. He can catch up with us. Come, John, 
these here know what to do and will take care of your 
cured man. Hurry to Yeshua." 

"Oh, sirs, God bless, God keep you !" 

"And on you, in the name of Yeshua Natzri, be 
peace." 




CHAPTER XXIV 
THE HURT FOOT 

]OHN?" 
"Ay, Peter." 

"Whither are we bound?" 
"To the next village, I suppose." 
"Why not press forward, and ask Yeshua?" 

"He is weary, Peter. He has called none of us. I 
think he talks with God." 

"Saw any ever such a man in Israel ? He must have 
cured three hundred folk to-day." 

"More; more. He has worked since dawn, thirty 
an hour or thereabouts, and now the sun sets. 'TWas 
a great crowd. We had to ring him round and move 
all swiftly; but now all sick are cured." 

"I doubt it, John. There are always some left over." 

"I saw none ; or I would have helped them forward." 

"Nor I, but — nay, what's this?" 

"A little Son of Precept — a limping lad of twelve 
crossing the road behind the Master. Wait, son." 

"Yes, sir." 

"I am Peter, one of Yeshua Natzri's men. This is 
John. Here come James, Philip, Andrew and the rest. 
What do they call you, son?" 

"They call me Skinny, but my real name is John 
Barsimon." 

"Are you lame, Skinny?" 

"Yes, sir; lame and in pain." 



140 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Why did you not come forward and be cured?" 
"The crowd was too great. No one would let a boy 
through. I did not like to trouble the Master. Be- 
sides, the others needed it more than I." 

"Good lad, good lad. John, the boy stood aside to 
make way for others. What think you?" 

"We ought to cure him, Peter." 

"Oh, can you, sirs?" 

"We have cured deaf and sick and halt and blind. 
We have cast out devils. We have cleansed lepers. 
Some of us, when sent out two and two together, have 
raised the dead. We should be able to cure a case of 
lameness. Yes, son, we can cure you." 

"Will you, then?" 

"Of course, of course. How long have you been 
lame?" 

"Why, since this morning." 

"What's that?" 

"Since late this morning." 

"Why boy, what is the matter?" 

"Sir, I was running down the mountain side in 
haste to see the Master. I have no sandals. I dashed 
my foot against a stone. It will be well next week but 
now it hurts." 

"What think you, Peter?" 

"What think you, Thomas?" 

"What think you, John?" 

"Please, Mr. John. Your eyes look kind." 

"Now out upon you all, for leaving it to me. I want 
to cure him. A word of prayer, with hands upon his 
head, would do it. But, brethren, to trouble the Lord 
God for such a thing — to call upon the omnipotent 
Creator of the universe, Lord God of Israel, to cure 
a boy's sore toe — frankly, I dare not." 

"I'm sorry. Will you, Mr. Peter?" 



THE HURT FOOT 141 

"No, son, it will be well in a day or two." 

The small boy, standing on one foot and scratching 
his ankle with his other heel, questioned the remaining 
ten disciples with his eyes, in silence, and one by one, 
in silence, each shook his head. Sadly the little fellow 
turned to go. In the meantime, the Master, finding the 
Twelve failed to follow him closely as usual, had turned 
and come back to them. Thus little John Barsimon, 
turning, met him face to face. 

"What is it, son?" 

"I stubbed my toe. They will not cure it, sir, be- 
cause they think it wrong to call on the great God 
for such a little thing." 

"What think you?" 

"That He is great enough to do anything, even little 
things." 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Yes, sir — ouch!" 

"Move it again." 

"Oh, Thank you, sir" — and with a piercing whistle 
addressed to some hidden comrade, John Barsimon, 
surnamed Skinny, darted up a cross-road and was gone. 

The Master, with a twinkle in his eye, looked at 
John, Peter, Thomas, and the others, one by one; and, 
one by one, Thomas, John, Peter, and the others dropped 
their eyes. Nobody said anything. There was nothing 
to be said. But from that time on, the disciples fol- 
lowed the Lord more closely. 



CHAPTER XXV 
THE INSULT 




[HE Master wearied of wandering, and took 
| pity on the great masses of sick, who 
crowded to him, and who found little to 
eat, and small shelter. Therefore, he began 
systematic work, sending out thirty-five 
pairs of advance-agents and notifying different cities 
of the irrigated country, that he would visit them in 
regular order, and at definite dates. The provision- 
sellers and providers of lodgings were therefore able 
to make due preparation ; and, as a result, writers who 
were used to crowds of five thousand men or so, besides 
women and children, insist everywhere on the enormous 
crowds, the stupendous and phenomenal multitudes, 
which surrounded the Master in the Perean towns. 

At each town, it was his custom to enter the Syna- 
gogue and preach. Not one man in fifty could get in, 
but those who did told the others what he said. Ac- 
cording to custom some one, usually the ruler of the 
Synagogue, asked him to dinner ; and as his twelve im- 
mediate followers, and the fifteen or twenty eminent 
theologians from the capital detailed by the national 
legislature to follow, observe, and, if necessary, oppose 
him, were included in the invitation, these dinners were 
considerable functions. Therefore, they were only pos- 
sible in considerable houses, owned by men of wealth. 
At some undesignated town in Perea, our Lord had 



THE INSULT 143 



healed the sick — shoals of them — and preached in the 
Synagogue. After service, he went to dine at the house 
of one of the chief men of the town. On the porch, as 
part of the equipment of every considerable house, were 
several water-jars, stoneware crocks, holding fifteen or 
twenty gallons each. They were provided with dippers, 
or the classical earthenware equivalent, for pouring 
water upon the hands. It was for convenience in this 
water-pouring that the crocks were put outside the house 
on the porch. At these crocks the Jerusalem delega- 
tion ostentatiously washed their hands, pouring the 
water on copiously, and holding up their hands so that 
the water ran down "to the wrists," as was ordered in 
their ritual law. While doing this, they watched the 
Master and the Twelve, and made comments. The 
Master quietly ignored the crocks and walked past; 
and some of the Twelve, Simon Stone and Judas of 
Kerioth especially, ostentatiously ignored them. The 
reason of this byplay was that, at the first miracle of 
the loaves and fishes, and at the breakfast of the Twelve 
the next morning on some of the miraculous bread, the 
Master had so arranged matters that it was impossible 
for the multitude or for the Twelve to wash their 
hands. This broke the ritual law; a man-made law, not 
a Divine one. This struck the Pharisees as the most 
important fact in the great miracle of the loaves and 
fishes, and they made a theological point of it. Our 
Master, grieved and shocked, thereupon denounced 
them and made a theological point of omitting it. From 
that time on, the Twelve had made no ceremonial use 
of the water-pots at their hosts' doors. 

The omission of hand-washing, therefore, was a the- 
ological point, and had nothing to do with questions 
of social courtesy. The multitudes who followed the 
Master from the Synagogue, and surged outside the 



144 MEN OF THE WAY 

porch to see him pass, grasped this, and were daily 
amused and gratified to note the sullen efforts of the 
Pharisees to get washing treated as a social matter. 
The multitude, too, often found ritual hand-washing 
impracticable. The minutely rigid law, developed by 
scholars and priests in their studies, does not always fit 
practical men laboring in the open. If the Master could 
abolish the ritual of purifications, or make it more 
elastic, he might restore to the common people their 
rightful place in the commonwealth of Israel. As it 
was, practically all Galileans and Pereans, and three- 
quarters even of the inhabitants of Judea, were, at all 
times, involved in some violation of the elaborate spi- 
der's-web of ritual, and were scornfully classed by the 
rabbis as "Am Haaretz," the Great Unwashed, the 
damned. 

Usually the rulers of Synagogues in Perean towns 
were sufficiently in touch with the Perean common peo- 
ple to grasp all this ; or else, were intellectually intelli- 
gent enough to grasp the distinction between a theo- 
logical doctrine and its emphasis, and a social and per- 
sonal discourtesy. Still, the Scribes and Pharisees 
knew that, sooner or later, they would find a man too 
stupid to catch the distinction, and too little in touch 
with the people to realize their point of view. 

At last they had found him. The Master passed into 
the courtyard and stood still; for he was met with the 
unintentional and quite unconscious neglect of the Pha- 
risee, whose first welcome was for Pharisees. The host 
was occupied in greeting and seating some of the great 
men from the capital. As was his custom in such cases, 
the Master led the Twelve to the left side of the horse- 
shoe-shaped table, and took his place on the couches 
furthest from the host, the least honorable positions. 
Some hosts would have shown him to the chief couch. 



THE INSULT 145 



Most would have gone to him and whispered him to 
come up higher. This man did neither. He consulted 
with the leading men of the Jerusalem delegation, said 
grace, and began the customary speech with which the 
host opened the banquet. He said: 

"We welcome the eminent lawyers and theologians 
from the Temple, and the famous Kabbi Yeshua of 
Nazareth. Men of such punctilious religious method 
will be relieved to know that all precautions have been 
taken to preserve ceremonial purity. The house, the 
table, the food, and the servants have been purified 
according to the strictest interpretation of the rules 
of ritual cleanliness. The guests also, with the excep- 
tion of Rabbi Yeshua and his followers, have complied 
with these rules. Should there be any ceremonial infec- 
tion or ritual contamination, it can be only because 
these eat with unwashed hands." 

The words of this speech have not been preserved, 
but the ideas have, for the Master answered it clause 
by clause. The host sat down, and the men who had 
suggested his act congratulated him on it. 

The Perean Pharisee had committed perhaps the 
meanest crime; a crime so mean that modern Europe 
unites with ancient Asia in declaring it intolerable; a 
crime which even robbers, thieves, and, murderers 
avoid. He, a host, had insulted invited guests at his 
own table. 

This made the dinner impossible. If any wonder 
why, let him pause a moment and consider, lest his 
own ideal of courtesy and of the relations between host 
and guest be growing dim. The Master was no longer 
a guest at the house. The nearest modern analogy is 
that of an ambassador of a king, his father, into whose 
face the host has just thrown a glass of wine. 

Twenty-five or thirty men were reclining on couches 



146 MEN OF THE WAY 

around the great horseshoe-shaped table in the court- 
yard, and some two hundred more were gathered on 
the verandas, to hear the speeches. The Master rose, 
and began very quietly. He addressed not the host, but 
the Pharisees, thereby making it plain that the attack 
had come from the Pharisees and not from the host 
personally. Quiet as was the opening, it prefaced the 
most terrible known denunciation. There is nothing 
parallel to it, nothing even approaching it, in any lan- 
guage. Denunciation, from that day to this, hides its 
diminished head and takes refuge in profanity, in de- 
spair of equalling that matchless exordium, and that 
perfect peroration. It is lyrical. He was at a banquet ; 
therefore he began with an illustration taken from the 
dishes on the table. 

"Now do you Pharisees make clean the outside of 
the cup and platter, but your inward part is full of 
ravening and wickedness. You fools, did not He that 
made that which is without make that which is within 
also ? But rather, give alms of such things as you have ; 
and behold, all things are clean unto you." 

This was anarchy, ritualistic nihilism! The idea 
that dirty dishes are best cleansed by giving their con- 
tents to the hungry poor, whether taken literally or 
figuratively, is death to Phariseeism. 

"But, woe to you Pharisees! For you tithe mint 
and rue and all manner of herbs, and pass over judg- 
ment and the love of God; these ought ye to have done 
and not to leave the other undone. Woe unto you, 
Pharisees! For ye love the uppermost seats in the 
Synagogues and greetings in the markets. Woe unto 
you Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For ye are 
graves, which appear not, and the men who walk over 
them are not aware of them." 

The crowd found this a most soul-satisfying and 



r 



THE INSULT 147 



mouth-filling denunciation ; for the public did not love 
the Pharisees. In Aramaic it must have been prac- 
tically a lyric. It even has a recurrent refrain, like a 
ballad. The three marks of a Pharisee were, to make 
no use of any untithed thing, to keep the laws of Levit- 
ical purification, and to abstain from intercourse with 
all non-Pharisees. To these the Master had alluded, 
with an epoch-making ritual-overturning general prin- 
ciple, added. "Hypocrite" is Greek for "actor". The 
ancient actor wore a mask, and hid his true appearance. 
Every man who walked over a grave was made ritually 
unclean, for which reason graves were marked. The 
Pharisees had complained that, by neglecting to wash 
his hands, the Master made all he touched unclean. He 
retorted that they, by moral corruption concealed, made 
everyone who approached them unclean. They were 
like unmarked graves. 

Certain doctors of Canon Law, present at table, had 
greatly enjoyed the speech. One of their sayings was, 
that silly pietists, woman Pharisees, and the penances 
of Phariseeism were among the chief ills of life. Still, 
they felt that the Master, by attacking not only the 
absurdities of the Pharisees, but the underlying prin- 
ciple of precedent — of traditionalism — attacked them. 
One of them, therefore, said: 

"Master, in this saying you reproach us also." 
"Woe unto you also, ye lawyers," flashed out the 
Master" ; for you load men with burdens grievous to be 
borne, and you yourselves touch not the burdens with 
one of your fingers. Woe unto you, for ye build the 
sepulchres of the prophets, and your fathers killed them. 
Truly, ye bear witness that ye allow the deeds of your 
fathers ; for they, indeed, kill them, and you build their 
tombs. Woe unto you, ye lawyers ! For ye have taken 
away the key of knowledge; ye entered not in, your- 



148 MEN OF THE WAY 

selves, and them that were entering, ye hindered." 

The lawyers were doctors of Canon Law; but, Israel 
having originally been a theocracy and ruled by priests, 
canon law and civil law were one and the same thing. 
Had the reasons not been given, the speech would there- 
fore be a terrible denunciation of that modern profes- 
sional class, lawyers. The reasons, however, were 
given; Jesus was just. As it stands, therefore, it is a 
terrible indictment, not of lawyers, but of the law. As 
the crowd meditated and hilariously and enthusiasti- 
cally commented, they saw that the reasons given were 
that lawyers were exempt from certain laws ; that they 
were willing, as a class, to suppress unfavorable evi- 
dence (that of the prophets) concerning their clients, 
and that they had substituted precedent for equity, and 
made long and tangled study of codes necessary for 
any man who would plead and win his own just cause. 

The Master was too terribly in earnest, too mourn- 
fully sad over the harm done to the helpless, to bear 
with the awful guilt of these trivialities. He gathered 
the Twelve around him with a gesture, and walked out. 
The Scribes and Pharisees, starting to their feet, fol- 
lowed him. They began to press upon him vehemently 
and to provoke him to speak of many things, trying to 
put words into his mouth. 

If you wish to gather an unusually large, and un- 
usually dense crowd, the best way is to start a bitter 
quarrel. Outside the house were waiting people, liter- 
ally in myriads. They were climbing over each other 
to listen; and there came out to them the man, their 
rightful king, who had just spoken a most heart-filling 
and mouth-satisfying denunciation of the Pharisees, 
which had warmed the very cockles of the common 
people's hearts. 

"He called them fools." 



THE INSULT 149 



"He said they were greedy and wicked." 

"He said their hearts were dirty." 

"He said . . . He said ..." and the crowd, 
enthusiastically quoting bits of the speech, surged in, 
and bore him off to the pasture lands outside the town 
to make them a speech of their own. Hilariously, an- 
grily, triumphantly, they shouldered the Pharisees 
away from the Master. As for the ruler of the Syna- 
gogue, he stood before his great banquet-table, looked 
at his untasted feast, stroked his beard, in a dazed and 
confused way, and spoke — to himself; for everyone else 
had gone. 

"So, this is the gentle Nazarene, the man who loves 
all little children, and is tender as a woman to the sick ; 
who does not resent injustice, and who bears all insult 
patiently. This hurricane, this tornado, this lightning- 
flash, is a by-word for gentleness. Peaceful .... 
long-suffering .... tender .... loving .... 
gentle ! It were better not to have roused him." 




CHAPTER XXVI 

THE HILL CREST 

ATEVILLE" is the English translation of 
the name of a town which, in its native 
Aramaic form, has grown world-famous. 
Curiously enough there are no date palms 
there now. The climate has changed, and 
it has grown too dry for them. But London and Berlin, 
and New York and Pekin, and the very Hottentots and 
Patagonians know the village by the native name which 
means "Dateville"; and even the Eskimo have heard 
of it. 

The town itself is on a level shelf near the top of the 
eastern escarpment of that great mountain range which 
shuts off Jordan valley from the Mediterranean sea. 
Behind it, towards the west, lies the last rise of the 
mountain wave which guards Jerusalem. Eastward 
the land drops, slope after slope, shelf after shelf, down 
and down and down, until the eye of the visitor from 
the coast is puzzled to find the mountain twice as high 
on this side as on that ; for Jordan runs here in a great 
coulee, far below sea-level, in a valley rifted by some 
titanic earthquake, so long ago that it is utterly for- 
gotten. The prophet Ezekiel says that some day an- 
other earthquake shall let in the sea, and make an 
inland and gigantic harbor where gallant galleys, with- 
out oar or sail, shall bear the commerce of a new and 
unknown world — but his statements proved too ample 



THE HILLCREST 151 



for the geological and naval knowledge of King James' 
day, and were much rehashed by the translators. When 
that time comes, the view from Dateville will be the 
finest in the world. Even then it was wonderful enough, 
down and down through deep abysses of clear desert air, 
to the green valley bottom, with the river winding 
through ; and up on the other side, a sloping bluff a mile 
high, and nearly a hundred miles long, of white and 
yellow limestone, and raw red sandstone, shading to 
scarlet, yellow, olive, drab, and sea-green, and all the 
colors of rainbows and soap-bubbles, up and up, to where 
the treeless crests of Moab poise, outlined in crystal 
clearness, against a raw-indigo sky. 

At the edge of the slope, near where the long road 
dips down, shelf after shelf, to the liliputian city of 
Jericho, lying, minutely distinct, remotely small, but 
clear-cut as a cameo, in the green checkerboard of the 
irrigated valley, a woman once stood, and shaded her 
eyes to watch the wayfarers as they came. They grew 
from tiny dots, that barely moved, and which only the 
strongest eyesight could see, to the size of crawling 
ants, then of puppets, then of children, then grown men 
and women, cresting the slope; and more, and always 
more, came after them. Their grey and blue, and black 
and ochre mantles, or their white linen vestments shone 
and twinkled far down the long road, little patches of 
color on its sinuous curves. Kabbis wore white linen; 
therefore, the woman was looking for a dot of white. 

The road slants up a coulee, the gully of a ravine; 
therefore, the woman was not at the road itself, but had 
walked out to the very outermost jut and point of the 
height, to one side of it, some distance from the village. 
Behind her was the backbone of Judea, a mountain 
ridge of limestone, and every stone embodied history. 
For three thousand years men had lived in these moun- 



152 MEN OF THE WAY 

tains, and had left record of it. To her left, very 
far off northward, was a blink of blue, which marked 
one corner of the lake of Galilee. Behind it showed a 
triangular patch of white and rose color, and that deep 
purple which only mountain lovers know, where Her- 
mon, a great mountain, lifted its snow-clad summit like 
a prayer. To the southeast and nearer, near enough 
to be outlined as if on a map, lay, at the bottom of the 
widening river-chasm, a lake of that deep, strange, 
vicious, angry, poisonous blue, which means alkali- 
water. Southeast, beyond it, was the purple ridge of 
Mount Hoar ; a ridge which marked then, and, for that 
matter, marks now, the line between the unknown and 
the known; and stood and stands for mystery. The 
tumbled country behind it is held by tribes who, for 
five thousand years, have permitted no explorer to 
return; and the best account of it is still the record 
of that expedition in force which we call the Exodus. 
Southwest of this, and out of sight from where 
the woman stood, by reason of certain jutting buttresses 
of the Judean hills, or, at most, faintly hinted by a 
spider's line of blue above their tops, were the massive 
heights of Sinai, the mount of God. Hermon, of the 
Transfiguration, calls down the long chasm of Jordan 
valley to Sinai of the law, and both eternally point up 
to heaven. 

There was full time for the woman, whose name was 
Martha, to note these things and more, for her watch 
was very long. There was full cause, also; for anxious 
eyes strained upon one tiny point, cannot long 
endure, and must be turned away to take in the larger 
features of the view, before they can be turned again 
to minute watching. Moreover, not only eyes, but brain 
were forced to turn upon these matters; for we are 
never half so much alive to the strangeness and beauty 



THE HILLCREST 153 



of this wonder-world which we call "commonplace," 
as when great sorrow or the fear of death has gripped 
us, yet we must pause and wait. Therefore Martha 
saw, with the seeing eye, the wonders of the Lord in this 
most wonderful of all His lands, and, seeing, felt that 
awe whence wisdom springs. 

Many wayfarers came up the long winding road, for 
it was the main highway between two great cities ; and 
not a few of them were rabbis, or priests, and so wore 
white. Therefore poor Martha, mad with the useless 
ecstacy of all impatience, was shuttled to and fro, from 
joy to black despair, a dozen times a day. Now and then, 
a gleam of white, surrounded by a dozen dots of black, 
would show at the very furthest limit of all eyesight; 
and then delight, like a great flame among dry thorns, 
would blaze within her; for the rabbi she expected 
would have a group of followers. Then, after that delay 
which makes the heart sick, the delight would die, 
flicker and flame, and rise and die again, and at last 
perish, as the man came closer and proved to be a 
stranger. 

Every now and then, perhaps once in an hour, per- 
haps once in two, a messenger would come, a quiet 
woman of the servant type, and speak to Martha. The 
words of their conversation changed each time, but the 
thought never varied. Martha asked, by word or look : 

"Does he live?" 

And, by word or sign, the messenger replied, "He 
lives, but he is weaker. Is the Master in sight yet?" 

"Not yet ; but there is a rabbi very far off, down the 
long road, who may be he. Tell Mary so. Where is 
Simon?" 

"He sits by the bedside." 

"Tell Mary to pray, and tell me quickly of any 
change, You have my leave to go," 



154 MEN OF THE WAY 

Each time that this messenger left her, Martha 
turned more eagerly to her searching of the many- 
colored landscape for the Master, and prayed more 
earnestly to the God of her fathers, that he might come 
soon. It was an ironic contrast that the inner world 
of her thoughts should be so shadowed, when the outer 
world, before her eyes, was so crystalline with color 
and with light. Like all irrigated country, the great 
chasm of the Jordan has an atmosphere phenomenally 
clear; while, as for color, the rocks of Moab are the 
tombstones and burial-ground of all dead rainbows. 
Even at noon, the blank glare of the vertical heavens 
is changed there from sheer white to a blinding flicker 
of half-hinted hues; while, when the stately sunset 
sweeps into the west, there could be nothing like them 
but a bonfire of roses. It is not for nothing that one 
whole country, there, is named Ked Edom ; and it is more 
than mere chance that, when a certain great prophet, 
looking across this valley, dreamed a vision of the Mes- 
siah striding gigantic from the east, and towering 
heavenward, he saw the skirts of his tremendous mantle 
all splashed and stained with red. 

For days, ever since her messenger, mounted on a 
swift horse, had left to search for the Master, Martha 
had looked out across the green Jordan chasm, into this 
tumbled world of red and tawny -yellow mountains, and 
had watched them change, with the changing light, as 
she debated chances, and calculated distances. He was 
curing the sick, and preaching God's good news, in the 
towns and cities in the irrigated valleys that bit into 
the mountain wall across Jordan. It would take so 
many hours for the messenger to learn where he was, 
so many more to reach him. He would return quickly, 
but on foot. Therefore the messenger would arrive first. 
If only the Master would come quickly, quickly. Oh 



THE HILLCREST 155 



God of Israel, grant that he come soon. And still, one 
by one, the many wayfarers emerged from Jericho and 
thronged the long road. 

In that hushed moment, when the day is born, 
Martha had wakened. Before dawn was done, while yet 
the wind from out the great abyss was chill and cool, 
she w r as at her post to watch for the Master and bring 
him, without a moment's loss of time, to the bed of a 
slowly dying man. She saw many things that day, but 
not the Master. Early sunrise is first purple, then 
violet, then shades into either gold or scarlet. This 
was a red sunrise, like a volcano playing, till from the 
furious crater of the skies, the crimson sun erupted 
into day; and through all those high thin trebles and 
deep organ-notes of red, poor Martha watched the road, 
and tried to be at peace. Then came morning, when, 
through the troubled clearness of blue gulfs of air, 
down the long vistas of solemn hillside beauty, she 
watched the road. Then came noon, when fair and blue 
the still sky soared, but under foot the whole great 
chasm lay in a sun-swoon, and the sick eye swam in 
quest of quivering shadows, and found none. Then 
afternoon, wiien white winds blew, and the wheat- 
fields in the valley sent up their faint, pure odor, sweet 
as the fragrance of remembered love, and stirred in dis- 
tant waves, as the wind burrowed through them, until 
the very sight was melody. Every half-hour's move- 
ment of the sun changed, all day long, the aspect of the 
valley ; but never, in any of its aspects, did it frame the 
Master. 

Poor Martha, bustling, capable, practical housewife, 
with much to do, and no time for contemplation, 
changed, that day. One who knows every need of each 
of us, stood on some slope of the Perean hills, much too 
far off for seeing; but, save for distance, there was 



156 MEN OF THE WAY 

nothing bnt clear air between them ; and by some diviner 
vision of the soul, he must have known of her. Mary 
sent more insistently and of tener, as the day grew old ; 
but Martha, watching the road and ready to dash down 
the slope and fetch the Master, could only send, more 
and more sadly, the answer, "He is not yet in sight." At 
last it drew toward sunset, and the long shadows of the 
western range crept, in transparent purple, across the 
valley; and, as the golden fields upon the river dark- 
ened, so darkened Martha's heart. One of the many 
men on horseback, plodding up the road — she had 
watched him long, but her eyes were now grown dim 
with unshed tears — stood in his stirrups and waved up 
to her, and all her hopes blazed up again in golden 
flame; but when she wiped her eyes and looked again, 
it was not the Master, but only her messenger. 

It was no use to call, for round such jutting points 
of the Judean hills as that where Martha stood, the 
wind, melodious, one long sweet anthem, flows forever- 
more. Men sometimes have been silent through long 
ages, yet never has the Master's land been left without 
its praise harmonious. Everywhere God makes Himself 
a music after its kind, but here He has assembled all 
kinds. The deep and dreadful organ-note of thunder is 
least common of all; but, though the land is now 
blasted and barren, the salt sea-surf is still choral on 
one side of it, and the river whispers on the other, and, 
from the desert beyond the river, and the sea beyond the 
surf, and up and down the chasm from H^oreb to Sinai, 
the great winds wander, always, in the faint sweetness 
of a solemn hymn, and all the breezy hills still praise 
their Maker. Silently, therefore, Martha turned to 
eager watching of the road again, but saw no Master. 

The quiet serving-woman came up soon, and stood, 
and Martha turned to her : 



THE HILLCREST 157 



"Is he alive yet?" 

"Yes, but weaker." 

"Tell Mary our messenger returns. Bid her hasten." 

The cloud-dress passes through the sunset-furnace 
and conies out gold. The precious ore passes through 
a smaller, and a fiercer furnace, and comes out lasting 
gold. The spirit in adversity may pass through a 
smaller, fiercer furnace still, no larger than a breaking 
human heart, and come out gold eternal. With the long 
sunset glories streaming upward from the hills behind 
her, Mary came very swiftly to Martha, and they stood 
together as their messenger, a weary man with the dust 
of travel on him, strode up to them and made obeisance. 

"What said the Master?" 

"I left him outside Gerasa, high in the valley of the 
brook Jabbock, a long day's ride from here. He went 
apart from the multitude with me, last night, and heard 
my story." 

"What said he?" 

"Tell them," he said, "this sickness is not unto death, 
but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be 
glorified thereby." 

"Oh Mary, he is saved. Are you sure that he said 
that this sickness is not unto death?" 

"Quite sure. The words are graven on my memory. 
I too, love the young master." 

"Let us hasten back, Martha, and tell Simon." 

"Wait, Mary. Some one has cried out in the village 
and here comes Hanna, running." 

"Take courage, Martha. He said the sickness is not 
unto death." 

"She has thrown off her head-dress, Mary, and dis- 
arranged her hair ; and she is weeping." 

"Are you quite sure, Baruch, that the Master said 
that the sickness is not unto death?" 



158 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Quite sure." 

"Then take courage, Martha. What is it, Hanna?" 

The quiet serving-woman, quiet now no longer, had 

reached them. She stood a moment, looking into their 

faces, then spoke : 

"Lazarus, your brother, is dead." 




CHAPTER XXVII 
EPHRAIM 

NCE upon a time, Yeshua Bardawid, the 
Prophet of Nazareth, took a vacation. It 
was just before he went up to Jerusalem for 
that last great Passover when he was lifted 
up; and the Gospels give only a line to it, 
for he neither traveled, nor taught, nor gathered the 
people together for mighty works, but just stayed still, 
and rested. He had rested before, once, at the place 
where John baptized, but there he had taught and 
healed, and many believed on him ; but now, he did not 
even teach, and there is no record. 

He stayed at Ephraim. Nobody knows where Eph- 
raim is. He must have accepted an invitation from 
someone whom he had cured of some great and terrible 
thing, for that was his custom; and when he went to 
visit at that person's house, he liked it so well that he 
rested there. The restfulness of that rest stretches 
down all the centuries. The Scribes and Pharisees, 
when they found that he did no teaching, went home 
again, as they had done once or twice before. Perhaps 
some of the Apostles went home too. He cured all the 
sick people in the village and all the insane in the caves 
nearby, for that was his habit; and then, for days and 
days, did nothing. He was praying, and gathering his 
strength for that great and terrible day we call "Good 
Friday," but no one knew it. 



160 MEN OF THE WAY 

Now, whenever Our Lord rested, he spent much of 
his time with children. There is no record, but in this 
matter the certainties of human nature supplement the 
silences of Holy Writ. He who said, "Suffer the little 
children to come unto me" certainly loved children, and 
the little people know their lovers at a glance. The 
curly-headed, dimpled lunatics are wiser that the Seven 
Sages in reading hearts, and surely they read his. For 
the first time in three years, he had leisure; and, for a 
lover of children, leisure and the companionship of the 
little people are the same. The crowd knew him as 
Prophet of Xazareth. The children did not know ex- 
actly what a prophet was, but they knew that he had 
something to do with God, and could tell them of Him. 
Besides, if he had his rights, he would be a king. This 
alone was enough to put a fringe of peeping heads about 
each doorway and set bright eyes sparkling over every 
parapet. 

He knew them by name, of course. Mary and Susan, 
and Sam, and Eli, and Dan, and David were personal 
friends of his in a day. He who told the world that, 
unless we become as little children, we cannot see God, 
was most certain of all to follow his own prescription, 
to cure little Joshua's bumped head and to comfort 
Miriam for her broken cart. We think he mended the 
cart; mended it, not by miracle, but with string and 
glue. Surely the same power that raised dead Lazarus, 
healed little Jonathan's sore thumb and cured the 
bruises when tiny Daniel tumbled off the well-curbing. 
He who, in the Parables, told the thirty best short 
stories for grown-ups in all the world, must have told 
fascinating stories to whole armfuls of little people 
who came to him ; stories beginning : "When Abel was 
a little boy," or, "Once upon a time, there was an angel." 
There is no direct record. The Apostles, even if there, 



EPHRAIM 161 



were much too dignified to join such a group. But in 
this matter the deep instincts of the heart make good 
the gaps in Gospel narrative. 

We can imagine, therefore, the Prophet of Nazareth 
coming out of the house, as was his custom, and sitting 
down under the three palm-trees by the well-curb in 
the cool of the day. Little Miriam Bath Neri, who was 
two years old, and not always quite steady on her chubby 
legs, would trot out after him. She did not mean to be 
disrespectful, but she stumbled on a stone and plunged 
into his lap. He gathered her into his arms and put 
her on his knee, and the other children took this as a 
signal and clustered round him. They were greatly 
eager today because Eli, son of Tolmi, had found and 
brought back Susan's pet lamb, which had strayed, and 
the lamb was sick. It would not eat, and when you 
tried to make it walk, it stood still and trembled. 

"Please, Lord," said Susan, holding it up, "cure my 
lamb." She used the word for speaking to a king. 

"Do you think it right for me to cure a lamb, little 
maid?" 

"Not if there were sick people here uncured ; but you 
have cured them all. Oh, please do." 

"Very well. Give it here. Now take it back and let 
it run and play." 

"Oh, thank you, sir." 

The lamb ran away, and the children, now a score 
or so in number, gathered closer. "Now," they said, 
"tell us a story." 

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He lived 
in the great city of Alexandria, where they build big 
ships. His people, Joseph and Mary his mother, had 
gone there because Joseph was a carpenter and could 
work on the ships, and a great city is a good place to 
hide in. They had to hide, because a king wanted to 



162 MEN OF THE WAY 

kill the little boy. The very first things that boy remem- 
bers were the crowds, and the narrow streets, and the 
great tall tenement house they lived in, the gardens 
around the temples, the lighthouse, the blue lake, and 
the blue sea. There is not much place in a great crowded 
city for little boys to run and play ; so his mother used 
to take him up on the flat house-top where he could see 
the lake, or to the gardens where the animals lived in 
cages. There was a lion, and some ostriches, a river- 
horse, some hyenas, and an elephant." 

"Oh, tell us about the elephant." 

"No, about the lion." 

"No, about why the wicked king wanted to kill the 
boy?" 

"That was in the days of the great taxing, the first 
taxing, before any of you were born. The king had 
heard the little boy would grow up to be king of all the 
earth, so he thought he would kill him to save his own 
throne. He heard about him because three Magi from 
Persia, who worship the one true God, came on great 
camels from the east, bearing gold and spices. They 
had seen the little boy's star in the east and came to 
give the spices to him, and they asked the king where he 
was." 

"Did the litle boy have a star ? Did the king know ?" 

"Yes, the little boy had a star. An angel, named 
Michael, told one of the great prophets, long ago, how 
long it would be before the little boy was born ; and the 
prophet wrote it down for the Magi that when two stars 
that were far apart had come together in the sky, then 
was the time. The king knew because he asked the 
priests, and the priests remembered that another 
prophet had written where it would be. They had 
heard, too, about what the shepherds saw. There are 
shepherds at Abraham's tower, and some of them stay 



EPHRAIM 163 



awake all night every night and watch God's sheep. 
So they were awake the night the little boy was born. 
So God sent an angel, named Uriel, to tell them about 
it. Uriel is one of the captains of the Lord's host, and 
they wanted to come too, so he brought his host with 
him. They told the shepherds, and the shepherds went 
and saw the baby. They found him in a stable, in the 
ruined vault of the old castle of David, because there 
was no room for them at the inn. The shepherds told 
everybody, and so the priests knew." 

"And I know too, now," said Eli; "You were the 
little boy." 

"Yes, I was the little boy." 

Miriam nestled a little closer. "Now," she said, 
"tell about the lion." 

"Well, one day the lion looked at the little boy, and 
thought he would like to rub his head against him." 

"Was you scared?" 

"Oh no. Gabriel and Michael were there to see that 
nothing happened. Nobody else could see them, but the 
little boy could, and so could the lion." 

"Tell about Gabriel." 

"Gabriel is one of the greatest of the holy angels. 
He stands in the presence of God, and is no more afraid 
than you would be. When the cruel king died, and it 
was time for the little boy to come back home, Gabriel 
told Joseph. He had to get into one of Joseph's dreams 
to do it. Gabriel had told the little boy's mother about 
him before he was born." 

"Is Gabriel here now?" 

"No, but Oriel is. Oriel is a captain of the Lord's 
host, too. You cannot see him, but he is between you 
and the biggest palm." 

"I can see him," said little Miriam, "he is very 



164 MEN OF THE WAY 

bright, and he is smiling at me. There is some one with 
him." 

"That is his friend, Uriel. They have their hosts 
with them, to keep the wrong kind of people away from 
here; but even little Miriam cannot see the hosts, be- 
cause they are scattered round here for miles and miles." 

"Why can't we see Uriel and Oriel?" 

The Lord did not answer, but looked at the children, 
one by one ; and one by one, they dropped their eyes. 

"Was it so bad, Lord ?" asked one. "I did not mean 
to do it," said another. "I will always tell truth after 
this," said a third. "Forgive me," said a fourth. "For- 
give us all." 

There was a moment's pause, while the Lord looked 
from face to eager face. Then he bowed his head* 

"I see them both," gasped Susan. "And I — and I — 
and I — " the others added ; "But, oh, they fade." 

"Was it in token of forgiveness, Lord, we saw them?" 
Eli asked. "We did not need it, for we saw your face." 

"No, lad, it was only because they were very near 
and eager. If they had stayed, you could not but have 
told of them. Besides, you would have seen the other 
children." 

"The other children?" 

"Yes. The king killed other children, when he tried 
to kill the little boy. So now they go with him where- 
ever he goes." 

"I wants to go with you wherever you go," said little 
Miriam, sturdily. 

"Some day you shall, dear, some day you shall. I 
am come that all little children, that believe on me, may 
go wherever I go." 

"And I, when I grow up, will fight for you, and go 
wherever you go, too," said big Daniel, Susan's brother. 

"You know not what you pledge, young soldier. It 



EPHRAIM 165 



is a long way, first, and hard, and I may have to come 
for you at the last fight; but, for this word's sake, go 
you shall." 

"Oh, take me, take me, take us all." 

"All who believe on me may come, if they will. You 
do not understand now ; but some day you shall under- 
stand — and believe. 

"And some day, then, may we gather together under 
the trees, like this, and will you tell us a story?" 

"Yes, if you ask it then, some day you shall; but 
then you shall tell me stories — about yourselves." 

"And what then?" 

"Then you shall come with me, and I will show you 
the Father. But now you must go home to your mothers ; 
for twilight falls, and I must go into the wilderness — 
to pray." 

The Master rose, the group dissolved, and, by ones 
and twos, the children trotted home. I do not know 
about their later homecoming, though it was near two 
thousand years ago, and they have long gone home. Nor 
do I know whether they, or any other children, stand 
yet upon the crystal sea ; but this I do know, that if any 
tiny toddler on uncertain feet, come to the sea of glass 
as it were mingled with fire, none dare stop him. The 
captains of the Lord's Host salute, in memory of their 
King, who was once a child; the Harpers, harping on 
their harps, open their ranks; the four and twenty 
Elders stand aside; the Four Great Beasts make way; 
and the little one is free to adventure over the golden 
sea, toil up the great steps, pass under the rainbow like 
unto an emerald, and nestle in the arms of his dear, 
dear friend, the Lamb upon the Throne. 



= 



CHAPTER XXVIII 
ORIEL AND ANT AIR 

AZARUS, we stand here, waiting. Can you 
tell nothing ? He is dying. We all so want 
to hear of the world beyond death. You 
know, and the widow's son knows, and 
Jairus' daughter knows ; and John says the 
others are like you ; they say nothing." 

"You asked Him many things, Mary." 

"But that I did not dare. At least, tell if you were 
forbidden to speak, that I may cease to trouble you." 

"Not forbidden, Mary. There are no words. If the 
newborn babe could speak to the babe unborn, how 
could it tell of light, or breath, or the mother's face?" 

"But you stand here, and watch our hearts break, 
and say nothing." 

"None would believe." 

"I would!" 

"Perhaps you would, my sister, perhaps you would. 
So be it then. Know, that when I stand still and listen, 
my thoughts are like two voices talking of the Beloved 
Master." 

"That I can understand." 

"One of them believes Him Son of God and loves 
Him. The other believes and hates Him — and me. An- 
tair talks much; for if, by talking, he can distract 
Oriel's attention, then he can injure me. My coming 
back is an affront to death. They want me injured." 



ORIEL AND ANTAIR 167 

"What says he, brother?" 

"He calls it strange and dreadful, that the Son of 
God should interfere with the Prince of this World, to 
save mankind — like stealing his sheep from a butcher. 
Oriel says they are God's sheep. Antair says it is a 
shameful thing to all the powers spiritual, that the 
greatest of them should incarnate, shrouding himself in 
dirty flesh. Oriel says thereby he makes flesh pure and 
clean, not dirty. Antair says the whole matter in debate 
is wrong. Duty to God is owed through the Thrones, 
and Dominions, and Principalities, and Powers, 
which God himself has set over us, and the proof that 
God has set them over us is that they are stronger than 
we. He has given them power. Therefore, they must 
be right. Besides, if they are wrong, we are not to 
blame. It is their fault, not ours. Oriel says, ' thou 
shalt worship the Lord, thy God, and Him only shalt 
thou serve.' Telling their names has called them near 
us. They are speaking now." 

Lazarus was silent. Mary watched him with strain- 
ing attention. She could never be quite sure whether it 
was her own thought, or a voice — a golden voice. If it 
was a voice, she did not hear it with her ears but in her 
heart ; and it spoke not Aramaic, Greek, or any earthly 
tongue, but the very language of thought itself. 

"Your wish is granted, Lazarus," it said. "She shall 
hear. Stand back, Antair." 

"Oriel, hail," answered another voice, a hateful 
voice. "I want to look at the folly of the Hated One — 
your beloved Master. If he had stayed on his throne, 
we never could have touched him. What triple madness 
brought him down here, born a subject of the Prince of 
this World, under the law of death? Your King has 
come into our power, Oriel. He has quivering flesh and 
nerves to pierce and hurt, a human heart to break ; and 



168 MEN OF THE WAY 

all you Sons of Light must look on, sheathed swords 
withheld, forbidden to protect him." 

"You too were once a son of light, Antair." 

"True, and my throne was higher than yours. Your 
power has grown. I am not strong enough to hurt you 

now except through him ; but him we can hurt. It 

is his own law, Oriel, that those who take the sword 
shall perish by the sword. Our Prince invented death. 
Now we have your Prince where he must die by his 
own law, or ours. If he do not take the sword, and use 
his own power to protect himself, he must perish by our 
law. If he should use power against men to protect 
himself, then he must perish by his own law, and the 
universe with him. That is why great Thrones, Do- 
minions, Powers, and Principalities, beyond the power 
of our Prince, have hastened hither, from the utmost 
stars, to watch and tremble. For the Hated One is the 
source of Life, Oriel, and if he take the sword, by his 
own law, he must perish and you with him — and you 
with him. How would you like to die, Oriel, angel and 
immortal ? But if he do not take the sword, he dies." 

"Is that your plan, to force him to use power in self- 
defense against the sons of men ? But if you could suc- 
ceed and all creation perish, then you too die." 

"Of course, of course. What of it? We do not find 
our lives so happy since cast out from him, that we 
should care to keep them." 

"As for the Sons of God who come here, from all the 
universe, to watch, Antair, it is not from fear. They 
love him." 

"Perhaps. I can remember once when there was 
such a thing as love, but how it felt, I have forgotten. 
Why was your side so full of exultation, Oriel, the other 
day?" 

"What do you mean?" 



ORIEL AND ANTAIR 169 

"Why, when the children met him with palm- 
branches and cried, ' Hosannah to the Son of David,' 
and he said that if they had not done so, the very stones 
would cry out, you sons of God were all so full of joy. 
It was nothing to be joyful about — just riding into the 
city on a donkey. Look at him now." 

"Antair, the sons of God have borne with you, and 
borne with you, the evil powers. We are forbidden to 
use force except to protect others; but that use has 
proved our force greater than yours. If he would let 
us, we could sweep you out of the universe, into the lake 
of fire and brimstone, into the second death. That day 
when he let them greet him as King, he made plain that 
some day he will be king of earth, and wrest dominion 
from the Prince of this world. He made plain that, 
strict as the law holds now, the time will come when we 
can take the sword without perishing by the sword. It 
was the declaration of war, Antair — and your doom. 
Stand back!" 

"Next day he cleansed the temple, Oriel, driving out 
the money changers, and upsetting the commercial paper 
of the world. That sealed his doom. The second day 
he defeated the theologians of the nation in debate, 
publicly, before ten thousand people, proving before 
men and angels that the great Bible authorities of the 
nation are grossly ignorant of their own Bible. That 
doubly sealed his doom. The third day, he called on 
God to answer him, saying, Father, glorify Thy name, 
and God answered. Like thunder articulate, in a voice 
audible to men, God answered Him. The whole city 
heard, and said 'It thundered/ and went on with 
their wickedness. The thing was too great for them. 
Trebly that sealed his doom. There is a man named 
Judas, whom we own. Satan has entered into him. Our 
Prince can act in the world of flesh as well as yours. 



170 MEN OF THE WAY 

Through, him, our Prince has caused your Prince to be 
nailed by hands and feet to a cross, Oriel, and presently 
he shall die — or else use his power against his own laws 
to save himself ; and in that case, he will also die ; and 
all creation with him. I should be glad to cease to 
suffer, and enter into oblivion." 

"For you and yours, Antair, is no oblivion. You have 
given the needed object-lesson to the sons of light. With- 
out it, angels could fall, and did. With it, the universe 
is safe forever. All men and angels know now that ab- 
sence of prayer, attention centered on anything except 
our Father, leads to indifference, and indifference to 
neglect, and neglect to disobedience, and disobedience 
to hatred, and hatred to rebellious madness, and rebel- 
lious madness would blot out the universe, if it could, 
and murder God. That knowledge has made all angels 
safe forever." 

The golden voice ceased. There was a pause; then 
the hateful voice burst out, "If thou be the Son of God, 
come down from the cross. Save thyself and us." 

"He winces, Oriel, but does not come down. If he 
do not come soon, it will be too late. He will be dead 
and die according to our law. What is he doing, Oriel ? 
I see his thoughts, but do not understand." 

"He is reviewing all the sins of all the ages of all 
the world, Antair, and assuming the responsibility for 
each. Carrying out the will of the Father, he created 
man; and if man had never been created, there could 
have been no sin. He is not guilty. Mankind are guilty, 
and you and yours that tempt them. He is not guilty, 
but he is responsible. He makes good not the wrong 
doing, but the wrong done." 

"He did the same thing in Gethsemane last night. 
I saw him." 

"Yes ; but he did not carry it so far. He could not, 



ORIEL AND ANT AIR 171 

or he would have died, his work unfinished, mankind 
unsaved. Oh, my Best Beloved! Would God I were 
great enough to die instead of you !" 

There was a moment's pause; then, as if from all 
the universe — or from her own heart — Mary heard the 
great cry, from thousands upon ten thousands of golden 
voices: "Oh, our Best Beloved! Would God we were 
great enough to die instead of you I" She echoed it, and 
suddenly, as if scales had fallen from her eyes, she could 
see. 

She was near the centre of a great hollow sphere of 
faces; myriads of millions of faces. Earth had passed 
from her sight. The great passover mob, watching the 
crucifixion, were still there, though she saw their souls 
now, not their bodies; but the earth they stood on had 
disappeared, as had even the cross on which our Lord 
was crucified. Above them, the massed multitudes of 
millions of the sons of God looked down, eyes bathed in 
tears. Below them, the legions of evil looked up, 
malignant, intent, sneering. Between them, Our Lord 
was reviewing the last of the sins of mankind. She saw 
the pictures of his thoughts — beyond her comprehension ; 
a great strange world of power, where men and women, 
ten times as many as her world held, used enginery of 
power, more wonderful to her than the fabled powers 
of magicians, to sin, and sin, and sin — in Christ's name. 
In the name of Him who hung upon the cross, she saw 
them lie, wage war, give rein to lust, steal, slander, 
murder, torture, and defraud, and hate, hate, and de- 
fraud each other, and always in the name of Him upon 
the cross. For this too, he assumed responsibility. If 
he had not made them, they could not have done this. 
The devils laughed, and jeered, and nudged each other. 
She could not see plainly, or she would have perished. 
He saw, in one clear perfectness of realization, all that 



172 MEN OF THE WAY 

each of all mankind deserved. Much of what they did 
was of such a nature that it is not to be so much as 
named among us; but it causes fear and shame, and 
shame and fear, such fear, cut off from God. All this 
he had assumed. Then came one searing, realizing 
glimpse of what must happen to all these people. All 
this he had assumed ; for an instant, at least, he felt in 
full, their feeling, and was cut off from God. 

The physical sun was draped in darkness. Absence 
of God is spiritual darkness and from the world spirit- 
ual God, the Father, had partially, and for a moment, 
withdrawn Himself. Through the silence of that horror 
of great darkness, pierced, like a sword, a voice from 
the cross : "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken 
me ?" And his suffering, human heart broke with sorrow 
at the sins of man. 

The darkness lasted but a moment. Dying, he said : 
"I thirst;" then, "It is finished;" then, "Into thy hands 
I commend my spirit." At each, the tense spiritual uni- 
verse quivered. Then, coming down from the cross — 
for Mary saw, and I speak of Himself, not his dead body 
— he advanced towards the Prince of this World and the 
powers of evil. He had endured their worst. They could 
no more. One moment they faced Him, then broke 
and fled. 

Oriel spoke to Lazarus : "You are safe now. Antair 
has gone. Never again can he injure, or do more than 
tempt you. The Son of God is Lord now of the dead, 
as well as of the living. Both sides of the grave are His. 
He has burst through the gates of death and the spirits 
which are in prison shall hear and follow Him." 

"Oriel — brother — do not leave us, Oriel." 

"Remember that he told you, on the third day he 
rises from the dead. He needs me now, and you do not. 
We shall meet again." 



ORIEL AND ANT AIR 173 

Gradually, as a sword sinks into the sheath, Mary's 
thoughts and vision came back to the things of this 
world. The crowd was gone. Though but mid-after- 
noon, it was dark, all but one blood-red streak on the 
horizon. There was a great earthquake; and, outlined 
black against the blood-red gleam, a laden cross upon 
the crown of Calvary swayed to and fro. Around her 
was the sound of weeping among the friends of Jesus, 
and low murmurs of "Woe ! Woe I" Mary reached out 
her hand to Lazarus. 

"Shall we tell them, brother?" she asked. 

"None would believe us. No. Master of Earth, and 
sure foundation for the peace of heaven, He triumphs 
now ! All's well." 




CHAPTER XXIX 
THE PRIEST OF JUPITER 

ERTAINLY, sir, come in. I am the priest 
of Jupiter at Jerusalem. Yes, it is quite 
true that I have been a soldier — Caius 
Decius, decurion of the third century of the 
tenth legion, given the detail when dis- 
charged, instead of sent to a colony, because I am no 
farmer. Yes, it is lonely, except when the legions leave 
their eagles here under guard. A sociable old idolator, 
am I? Oh well, young man — Luke, did you say your 
name is? — sociable I am and old, and I had rather be an 
idolator than worship the one God of this city ; that is, 
if he be like his people. I have seen that from the temple 
steps here, which disgusts even an old Roman soldier — 
and Romans are not squeamish. 

"What do I mean? Why, crucifixions. Any in 
particular? Certainly, when we crucified their king. 
Tell you about it and speak freely? Well, your wine is 
good ; but if, at your request, I tell why I despise your 
people, you must not resent it. Is that a bargain? 

"Do you know how this temple came here? In out- 
line, but no details ? Well, Pontius Pilate marched the 
legions in with their eagles, and the people rose, for 
there must be no idols in Jerusalem. Pilate could not 
be bribed (the more fool he) and legions are not easily 
defeated, so they sent to Tiberius, the emperor, (may 
his name be adored) with great bribes for Sejanus, his 



THE PRIEST OF JUPITER 175 

favorite, and in the meantime organized all the Jews of 
Caesarea, and wept by squads in front of Pilate's palace 
day and night, till Pilate wearied, and called back the 
troops. Tiberius ordered, through Sejanus, that a temple 
to Jupiter be built outside the city and, in future, the 
eagles left there. He left it to the Jews to provide place, 
and Annas put it between the slaughter house and 
gallows ; so here we are by both. I can sit on my steps 
and fight flies and watch them cutting up sheep and 
cattle, or turn the other way and see the crucified slowly 
dying. Nice place for a temple to Jupiter, isn't it? 

"The crucifixion of their King? Oh, I sat, and saw 
it all. The crowd kept off my steps, thinking them curst, 
and I could see over the heads of the multitude. 

"The execution squad were rather sorry for him, 
but handled him worse instead of better for it, because 
they scorned the crowd and he was the crowd's king. 
Think of it ! Armed men enough to make three hundred 
legions in and around the city, all angry with us, and 
not enough courage to attack one small execution squad 
and save their king. Why, they could have trampled 
us to death without attacking. It is enough to make a 
man sick to think there is a whole nation of such 
cowards. They cry out because we tyrannize and hold 
them under heel. 'Tis all they're fit for. There is no 
soundness in them. Were I procurator, I would grind 
the heel harder. 

"They milled to and fro, like sheep, and watched us 
crucify him. When the crucifixion squad took their 
customary drink of wine, they toasted him and the 
crowd snarled. I did not think that they had nerve 
enough. Their priests had fear that they would try a 
rescue, and taunted him to keep the crowd quiet, but 
they might have spared their pains. That crowd dared 
not attack a sheep, a lamb, a kitten. I think I might 



176 MEN OF THE WAY 

have said 'Shoo,' and flapped my arms, and they had 
fled. There is grim stuff in them ? I hope you're right. 
Myself, I would not wish such pitiful manikins to 
dwell on earth. But I have seen no signs of any courage. 
You say he was a Jew? Of course. I had forgot that. 
Then one offsets the other. Pilate was a bold man to 
crucify, Petronius a bolder to guard, but a bolder man 
than Pilate or Petronius hung upon the cross that day 
and made his will, and welcomed thieves to Paradise. 

"There was another bold man, too, come to think 
of it. He was a Jew from Cyrene, and he ordered our 
men to be easier on the prisoner. Think of the spectac- 
ular magnificence of that vast insolence. A civilian Jew 
gave orders to a Roman execution squad ! They swept 
him off his horse and laid the cross upon him. Later, 
he gave the King a drink of wine against orders. I did 
not see the first, but the second deed I saw. Was it 
dark? Of course. I had left my steps, and elbowed 
closer. Why, when I am bored with executions ? Because 
this was different. The crowd was from all over the 
world. The priests were there — and they never come. 
Pilate had legally declared this man the rightful King. 
There was a darkness unnatural at midday, preparatory 
to an earthquake. We all felt it coming, without quite 
knowing what it was. What is the feeling? Like the 
strain before a great battle, only tenser. I like to see 
a little group of our men hold down a mob of thousands 
by sheer courage. Besides, I knew if anything broke 
out they would kill me, and preferred to go down back 
to back with some good legionary. Then, when I got 
where I could see his face, I did not care to leave — 
nor stay — nor live — nor watch — nor break away. 

"Tell you of it ? Man, I have no words. How shall 
a fat, old legionary, with no book-sense, tell of the woe, 
and love, and wonder of all the world ? Why think the 



THE PRIEST OF JUPITER 177 

crowd might riot, if such cowards? Man, man, every- 
thing was changed for all who saw his face. It was a 
change and shifting of all values. Things seemed worth 
while that had been valueless before, and things that 
had ruled life seemed less than nothing. Had it lasted, 
I could have grown a good man — and a great one; but 
ah, it passed. I long for wine again now, and for women, 
for empty chatter, and for ease of the flesh, and, longing, 
know them worthless. I have no wish to search for God 
my Father, to sacrifice myself, and die for others, yet I 
know that once that seemed the best of all. He must 
have been a great and good magician to cast such glamor 
on me. 

"What happened? Nothing. Nothing for hours. 
Slowly the day grew darker. For no good cause, no 
cause at all, the very hearts were torn from us, and yet 
we could not look away. We stood till we were weary 
and fit to drop, and did not know it. The darkness 
grew complete at the ninth hour. Then suddenly, he 
cried out. Oh, what a voice ! It echoed in the darkness 
and the silence, back from the city walls — and from our 
souls. I did not know the language, but the man next 
me translated, gasping. He said, ' My God, my God 
why hast THOU forsaken me?' 

"Then something broke in our hearts. Some men 
about the cross cried out. It grew a little lighter. We 
could see, dimly, men as shadows walking. He spoke 
again, but those around me could not understand him. 
There was a movement round the cross. A man ran 
forward. A sentry cried : ' Let be,' but he kept on, and 
lifted something to the Lord's lips. A pause, then some 
one gasped, and the crowd swayed and flickered, as word 
passed through it from the sentinels : ' The man is 
dead.' " 

"We stood still. In the reaction from that awful 



178 MEN OF THE WAY 

tension, off on the distant edges of the crowd, a shrill 
fool laughed. Then something rumbled in the bowels 
of the mountains, and the hills crashed, and the ground 
rose beneath us and tripped the whole great multitude, 
unwilling, to their knees, then flung them on their faces. 
The strong earth reeled and staggered. The thieves, 
upon their swaying crosses, screamed in anguish. The 
crowd rose and ran to and fro. The darkness shut 
down black again, and I crawled to my temple steps 
here, and lay on them. I did not dare to go inside, lest 
the roof fall. Jupiter is a great God, but small beside 
Jehovah. Then slowly the darkness cleared away, and 
all was as before, save that the crowd was fled away, 
and the Lord was dead. Yes, I call him Lord. Petron- 
ius was a good officer. He ought to know. Do I still 
think — God — greater than Jupiter? I do. He is his God. 
Could I worship Him without being a Jew, I would. 
You say there is a way, but I must lose my place and 
perquisites to follow it — perhaps be slain? I am a sol- 
dier, old, and fat, and worthless, but ready yet for one 
more great adventure ere I die. You wonder that a 
garrulous, drunken, old heathen — nay, you thought it, 
though you did not say it — should play the part of a 
brave man? Luke, Luke, lad, I watched Jesus of 
Nazareth die upon the cross, and I looked into his eyes." 



CHAPTER XXX 

THE REPORT TO CAIAPHAS 

Scene : The courtyard of the High Priest's palace. Time : 
Night. 

Persons : Caiaphas ; Annas, Members of Sanhedrin ; 
Guards; Servants. 

(A frantic knocking at the gates. Voice outside.) 

Voice : Open, open. 

Guard (Opening gate): What is it? (Enter mes- 
senger.) 

Messenger (Panting): Summon the High Priest. 
Jesus of Nazareth has risen ! 

Voices within the house: The High Priest, 
Caiaphas, Jesus of Nazareth has risen ! 

(There is a pause while the messenger gets his breath. 
Caiaphas hurries into the courtyard.) 

Caiaphas: Speak, Neri. 

Messenger : You set me to watch the guard. I hid 
in the garden. Jesus of Nazareth came forth. A man 
of light came down from the sky and rolled away the 
stone. There was an eathquake. Knowing the earth- 
quake must have roused you, I came here at speed. 

Caiaphas: Nonsense! You rave, Neri. Yet some- 
thing must have happened. John, fetch Annas. Scatter, 
some of you, and summon the Sanhedrin. 

(They scatter. There is a clatter of iron-shod feet 
outside and a soldier, running slowly because of his 
armor, enters.) 

Soldier: Where is the High Priest? 



180 MEN OF THE WAY 

Caiaphas : Here. 

Soldier : The tomb is empty. 

Caiaphas : What tomb ? 

Soldier: The tomb in Joseph's garden. Jesus of 
Nazareth is gone. 

Caiaphas : Gone ? 

Soldier : There was a light, blinding, too great for 
seeing. We fell on our faces as dead men. Then came 
a great earthquake. When it was over and we rose, the 
stone was rolled away from the door of the tomb. We 
took torches and looked in. The tomb was empty. The 
body was gone. 

Caiaphas : Saw you no more? 

Soldier: No more. The centurion sent me for 
orders. More, others may have seen. 

Caiaphas : You slept and dreamed. 

Soldier: Those off duty slept. But we on guard 
and the centurion were awake. 

Caiaphas: Who is your centurion to-night? 

Soldier: Caius Carina. 

Nomenclator: Annas, the High Priest, with mem- 
bers of the Sanhedrin. 

Annas (Entering): So, so; what we feared has 
happened, has it, and the disciples stole his body away 
while we slept? 

Caiaphas : Neri says differently. 

Soldier: We did not sleep. 

(The noise of a troop of foot, iron-shod and armed, out- 
side. Orders. The guard enters, in ranks, every tenth 
man and the Centurion with a torch.) 

Annas (Sternly): Why leave your post? 
Centurion (With equal sternness): Why guard an 
empty tomb? 

Annas : Your story. 

Centurion : An armed man from the sky. A light 



THE REPORT TO CAIAPHAS 181 

too great for clear seeing. He rolled away the stone. 
There was a great earthquake. Blinded, we saw no 
more. When the light died, we rose, lit torches, searched 
the tomb and garden, found nothing, and came here. 

Annas : Saw no one more? 

Centurion : Publius, sleeping, had his eyes shaded 
by his cloak. Speak. 

Publius : I woke because of shouting and a great 
light. The man of light was sitting on the stone. Then 
came so keen a brilliance from the tomb, I too, was 
blinded. 

Annas: It was in Joseph's garden. What says he? 
Whom have you there? 

Centurion : Joseph himself. He came out after 
the earthquake to see how we fared. 

Joseph of Arimathea (Stepping forward): The 
tomb is empty, Annas, and the garden. So much I saw. 

Annas : What think you ? 

Joseph : That He is risen, as He said. 

Annas : Caiaphas, what gold have you in the house ? 

Caiaphas : Three thousand shekels. 

Annas : Order it brought. Caius Carina, you and 
your men slept on watch. 

Centurion : Sir, they did not. 

Annas: You dare contradict me? 

Centurion : Pilate would crucify the guard that 
slept. Press us too far, old man, and you die with us. 
It is your fault setting us to guard one who was Son of 
God. 

Annas : Nonsense ! Pilate loaned you to me. Should 
the matter come to his ears — 

Centurion : The guard at the northern gate know 
all — 

Annas : W T ell, then, when the matter comes to his 
ears, I will hold you harmless. You were under my 



182 MEN OF THE WAY 

orders. The disciples stole away his body while you 
slept. 

Centurion : If we slept, how know who stole it or 
that it was stolen ? We will not do this. 

Annas : Is there anything a Roman will not do for 
gold? Here it comes — a heavy burden for a strong man. 
The Passover crowd, three million Jews, are camped 
about the city. We cannot have a riot at the Passover. 
Obey — and I hold you harmless. Anyone may be struck 
blind by lightning, without blame. Refuse — and in very 
truth, Pilate shall have you crucified. Hear the gold 
chink. Look at the faces of your men. We, the San- 
hedrin, will go with you and make all right with Pilate. 

Centurion (After looking at the faces of his men): 
What must be must. We will obey. Yet we did not 
sleep. 

Joseph (Under his breath): Jesus of Nazareth has 
risen. 




CHAPTER XXXI 

THE LITTLE MAID 

|HE hill-tops of Judea are bare, but beauti- 
ful, with the exceeding beauty of all flow- 
ers ; and the people of Judea are poor, but 
the most beautiful stories in the world 
have grown among them. 
There was once a little maid, named Miriam Bath- 
cleopas, which means Mary, Cleopas' daughter. She 
lived in a town near the great city of Jerusalem; a 
very beautiful little town, and just a pleasant after- 
noon's walk from the great city. Leaving by the west- 
ern gate, you follow the Roman road a mile or two, to 
a rise where there is a magnificent view of the city, and 
the whole region beyond it, as far as Bethlehem. Then 
you go down, turn, and start up what is even yet a 
lovely valley. There is a clear brook, green fields, 
orange and lemon groves, pleasant enclosures, shady 
nooks, bright dwellings; and from some shoulder of 
the hills — no one agrees with any one as to which 
shoulder, for there are the ancient ruined foundations 
of villages on all of them — the little village of Emmaus 
looked down the valley. 

On the afternoon of the day after the Passover, in 
the year 29 A.D., the little maid, very sad, was look- 
ing out over this valley. She was sad because the 
Master was dead. The news had come on Friday and 
Cleopas, her father, had left everything and hurried 



184 MEN OF THE WAY 

into the city. On the Sabbath, he had of course stayed 
there, for travel, then, was against the law. On the 
morning of the first day of the week he would naturally 
stay, for every suburban resident, with a free morning 
in the city, has plenty to do to fill it; but it was now 
afternoon, and so she sat and looked down the long 
road, awaiting him with the details of the death of 
the Master. 

The road, even now, lies bright down the valley, 
like a satin ribbon winding in and out between velvet- 
green orange orchards. Then the valley was more 
densely populated, better irrigated, and more 
thoroughly cultivated still, and therefore far more 
beautiful. The beauty of it must have brought some 
vague comfort to the little maid ; for it is by tears that 
our custom-sodden eyes are cleared to see how lovely 
God's world really is, and, for tears, that loveliness is 
the quietest, and sometimes the sole, assuagement. 

Among the many groups dotting the long road, her 
glance singled out one; at first doubtfully, then with 
increasing measure of assurance, at last with certainty. 
All Judea wore the same costumes, so her recognition 
was hardly aided by the garments; and it was much 
too far to distinguish faces. It was therefore by man- 
ner and bearing, way of walking, and carriage of the 
head, that she knew Cleopas, her father, and later Lucas, 
the young physician, his friend. Between them walked 
some one in white whose manner was also not unfa- 
miliar. Somewhere she had seen just such an erect 
figure, just such dignity of bearing. It was associated 
in her mind with sickness ; with a sick child, who had 
been made well. Then it flashed across her. In man- 
ner and bearing, the midmost man was like, was exactly 
like, the Master who was rumored dead. 

The ancient world had no newspapers. It got its 



THE LITTLE MAID 185 

news by rumor, and rumor was always wrong as to 
the details, and often false as to the very central facte 
themselves. Therefore no one except the eye-witnesses 
was ever sure of anything until some time after it hap- 
pened. 

The little maid, therefore, had obtained her infor- 
mation about the Master's death from rumor. All that 
she really knew was that the women were talking at the 
fountain, telling of the dreadful death of the Master; 
and, of course, it was possible that they were mistaken. 
Indeed, they must have been mistaken ; for here he was, 
walking up the road with Lucas and her father. 

The whole great and sorrowful load upon her heart 
lightened at this, and gave place to buoyancy and joy. 
It was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud, 
as if the birds had started singing. She could hardly 
keep her feet from dancing, and her tongue from call- 
ing out. There had been an earthquake, and an unnat- 
ural darkness, the day they said he was crucified, fol- 
lowed, in thirty-six hours, by another earthquake, and 
preceded by an eclipse of the moon; and the woman 
had said that all nature reeled and shook, in sympathy 
with his death. It seemed to her now that all nature 
was rejoicing in sympathy with his living. She watched 
the wayfarers a moment longer and then, for the joy of 
moving rather than for any need of haste, she set about 
preparing supper, the chief meal of the day. 

From time to time, as she put things on the table, 
she tripped to the door to watch. She had no one in the 
house to speak to, for her mother was dead and their 
single servant, her old nurse, was away. Sometimes 
she lost the travelers behind a house, and once, for a 
long time, behind a grove; but always they came out 
again and always nearer. With innocent cunning she 
took many of the things off the table again, that she 



186 MEN OF THE WAY 

might have need to put them back after the three had 
come; for Jewish customs differed from our own, and 
though, in the Judean hill-country, men and women of 
the same family often ate together, no woman would 
have thought of sitting at table with an honored guest. 
Therefore, a woman's one chance of seeing and hearing 
such, was to wait at table. She treasured this chance ; 
she had great wish to see and hear the Master. 

As the three came closer, she saw that Cleopas and 
Lucas were much the same as when last with her, 
though both looked somewhat older; but the Master 
had made some changes in his garments, and even in 
his expression. He seemed more the Master ; more mas- 
terful. They were so deeply immersed, sunken, sub- 
merged in conversation, that they said little in greeting 
to her ; in fact, the Master said nothing at all, but only 
smiled on her. Then he bade Lucas and Cleopas good 
bye, and made as if to go on through the village. 

The little maid was much cast down at this, and all 
her preparations suddenly seemed useless; but Lucas, 
the physician, interpreting her half -uttered protest, and 
adding to it a very strong one of his own, detained the 
Master; and then Cleopas, as master of the house, 
poured protest, objection, and invitation upon him, even 
putting a hand on his shoulder and using the semblance 
of friendly force, so that at last they constrained him 
to abide with them. Miriam only understood a part 
of their talk, for much of it depended upon what had 
gone before. It was about the Great Ones of the Lord, 
calling, in reverberating thunder, the long roll of the 
Prophets and quoting words from each that flashed 
out thoughts like lightning. The interlocking of the 
thoughts was beyond Miriam. Too much had gone 
before unheard by her ; and besides, linger as she would, 
while in the room, and hasten as she might outside it, 



THE LITTLE MAID 187 

still she had to be outside it sometimes, and so missed 
much. Yet she made out enough to see that the talk 
was of the Messiah, Israel's expected deliverer; and 
not striding gigantic from the East, in dyed garments 
of Bosrah, to set his heel upon his enemies, but smitten, 
despised, forsaken, mouthed at, with pierced hands and 
feet, and brought into the dust of death; and, most 
bewildering of all, it was also about the Master. The 
little maid knew that he was the Messiah, the Expected 
of Israel ; but she could not understand why they spoke 
so much of a Messiah suffering, and always in the third 
person. Though they were speaking to the Master him- 
self, and about himself, her father and Lucas always 
said "he" not "you." She grew so puzzled, she would 
have asked them once ; but the Master, who was watch- 
ing her, and read her thoughts, smiled and shook his 
head. Therefore she smiled back and was silent. 

At last everything was back on the table, that could 
be put there, and there was no further excuse for going 
in and out; so she had to tell them that supper was 
ready. They were so deep in talk, she had to tell them 
twice. Then Cleopas, her father, gave them seats at 
table. To the Master he gave the seat at the head, as 
the little maid had meant he should; only he did it 
not as a matter of course, but with an explanation, 
saying that so learned a rabbi, knowing the Prophets 
through and through, must say the grace. As was the 
ancient custom, the little maid waited for grace while 
Cleopas and Lucas sat down, and the Master remained 
standing. Then, as was the ancient custom also, he 
took the bread in his hands and said the old, old grace 
before meals, which begins: "Praise be to God, who 
maketh bread to grow out of the earth for his people, 
Israel." Then he broke the bread; and, as he did so, 
she noticed two red wounds in his hands. 



188 MEN OF THE WAY 

Cleopas and Luke arose so quickly that Lucas over- 
turned his chair. "It is the Lord," said he; and 
Cleopas said, "Rabbi, Rabboni". Then, before they 
could fall at his feet, he was gone. The little maid 
did not see him go. He was just gone. 

While she was puzzling over this, Lucas spoke at 
last, in a voice so deep with awe and joy, it frightened 
her. 

"It was the Lord, Cleopas, it was the Lord." 

"Yes," answered Cleopas, in the same tone, "it was 
the Master, the Lord." 

"Why, of course it was the Master," said the little 
maid. "Is it possible you did not know him all the 
time?" 

"Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked, 
Lucas?" 

"Truly we should have known." 

"Why, father," said the little maid, "I knew him 
from the time you came in sight. What is the matter?" 

"Last Friday," said the father, very slowly, "Jesus 
of Nazareth, the Master, died, on Golgotha, at the 
ninth hour, upon the cross." 




CHAPTER XXXII 
RESURRECTION 

T was supper, on the first day of the week, 
at John Mark's house. Peter, James, and 
Thomas were absent, but so many others 
were there that Mary, John Mark's mother, 
and Rhoda, her housemaid, had ample work 
in serving. The whole discipleship was stunned and 
heartbroken; but people must eat, even though the 
world break around them. Therefore, Martha of Bethany 
and Mary, the mother of our Lord, notable housekeepers 
both, had come from John's house to help, and had 
brought Mary of Magdala, and others with them. The 
women were not heartbroken. Rather, they were quietly 
jubilant, and a little defiant, 

John Zebedee said grace, in the absence of Peter and 
James. He ought to have been gloomy, like the others ; 
but his eyes exulted and blazed, as did those of the 
women. There was a good supper — bread and wine, 
lentils, roast mutton, broiled fish, and honeycomb — but 
John spent scant time eating. Soon, he was on his feet 
for the first of the speeches. 

"Brethren," he said, "I have been to the High Priests' 
house. They roused this morning at the earthquake. 
Before they slept again, one came, running, whom 
Caiaphas had set to watch the guard. He said that, 
as he looked over the wall into Joseph of Arimathea's 
garden, a man of light appeared in the sky. He des- 



190 MEN OF THE WAY 

cended, and rolled away the stone from the door of the 
tomb. Then came the earthquake and a blaze of light 
too bright for seeing. Ere he had well done, came a 
Roman, running slowly because in armor, who said the 
same; adding that they had looked into the tomb with 
torches, and it was empty. Caiaphas was angry and 
said a meteor had fallen, and we had slipped in and 
stolen the body. Then came Carina, the centurion, 
with soldiers. Caiaphas shook a great bag of money at 
them and told them they had been smitten senseless by 
a stroke of lightning, and we had stolen away the body 
while they slept. They said Pilate would crucify them 
if they told that tale. Caiaphas said he would hold 
them safe. Any man might be stunned by lightning. 
Besides, it must be so, for where was the body ? So they 
agreed it must be so, and took the money. Has any one 
seen the Lord's body?" 

John spoke as one exultant, but the seven remaining 
Apostles and the other disciples shook their heads. John 
repeated his question, and at last Mary of Magdala 
answered : 

"Yes. I have seen Him, living. I clung to His feet. 
They were pierced with the nails. I have told you what 
he said, but none of you will believe, except John." 

"Andrew, what think you?" asked John. 

"I would give my life to believe," said Andrew, "and 
so would we all. But she saw angels, too. It was a 
vision." 

"If it were a vision," said John, "the body would be 
in the tomb. But the tomb is empty. Peter and I went 
and looked. Where is the body?" 

Andrew lay down, with an unbelieving gesture, and 
Mary of Magdala turned to Mary, the Mother of Our 
Lord, who was also serving the supper. 

"You tell them," she said. 



STS. PETER AND JOHN RUN TO THE 
SEPULCHRE. St. John xx. 4. 




Tissot Picture Society, New York. N 117. 



Copyright by Tissot, 189,5-90. 



So they ran both together: and the other disciple did outrun 
Peter, and came first to the sepulchre." 



RESURRECTION 191 



There was a little pause till Mary, Our Lord's 
Mother, began. It was unprecedented that she should 
be there at all. She should have been in the inner 
chamber of John's house, in retirement. Nothing could 
so clearly emphasize her belief as her presence. Now, 
she leaned forward and spoke softly, but very earnestly. 

"Faithful friends, would I be here if I believed Him 
dead ? He is not dead, but living. We met Him on the 
way to the garden. He said, 'All hail V and gave us the 
message for you, which we have delivered and which 
you cannot yet believe. He is not dead. He is not dead, 
but liveth." 

"He told us often He would rise again," said John. 
"What say you, Philip?" 

"He meant that he would die politically and rise 
from political retirement. You yourself said so, John." 

"True, but I changed my mind, when I saw the 
neatly folded grave clothes in the empty tomb. Till 
then, Mary of Bethany w r as the only one who took him 
literally. He said that Lazarus' sickness was not to 
death, so she laid aside the spices bought to embalm 
him, even after Lazarus was dead. He said that he him- 
self would die, so she took the spices bought to embalm 
dead Lazarus and anointed Yeshua's living body for the 
burial. He said he would rise again, so now she believes. 
How is it, Lazarus ?" 

"She is here, John. Ask her." 

"How is it, Mary?" 

"He liveth! He liveth! Oh, he liveth!" 

"How is it, Philip?" 

"Grave-clothes prove nothing. Peter, too, saw them, 
and did not believe. I would not speak so plainly in 
their presence but that you press me, John. I know they 
think they saw Him ; but I cannot but hold Peter right, 
when he called the stories of their visions • idle tales.' " 



192 MEN OF THE WAY 

Philip lay down, and again the Apostles and the 
bulk of the disciples nodded. Yet the women looked at 
each other, untroubled. They knew. 

There were more men present than the tables held, 
besides women, so that the doors were guarded by a 
little group outside each, as they had need to be, for 
fear the Temple police might come and make a whole- 
sale arrest. Those not at table would eat later. There 
came a knocking on the door, and James entered. John 
gave up his place, for now that Y r eshua was gone, James 
was head of the house of David, and rightful King of 
Israel. James was usually a quiet man, but now his 
eyes blazed. 

"You are late, James," said John. 

"I did not know there was a meeting, John. I only 
knew some of the brethren would be here." 

" 'Twas all any of us knew," spoke up Nathaniel. 
"We gathered as it were by instinct, before we scatter — 
forever." 

"We spoke of Yeshua risen," said John. "The women 
believe and I — none other." 

"I take John's place at head of the table, brethren, 
because with Y T eshua dead" — a dozen winced at the 
word — "I am head of the line of David. But I take it 
only to yield it up again. I am not head of David's 
house. Yeshua is not dead." 

"James, are you too persuaded by the women?" 

"No, Levi God's-gift; I saw Him." 

'"What!" — this from a dozen. 

"I saw Him. I was praying, and one came and 
called me, saying: ' James! James!' I did not know 
Him, but answered, ' Here,' thinking it must be John. 
'What were you saying, James?' He asked, and I 
answered, 'Would God the story of women might be 
true.' 'It is,' He answered, and then I knew Him." 



RESURRECTION 193 



"Oh, what else ? What else ?" 

"I put my hand upon his shoulder, firm flesh and 
strong. I felt the muscles play under my fingers. I 
peered into His face by starlight. It was Yeshua. Then, 
ere I could kneel, He was gone." 

After a long pause, Simon Zealot, questioned: 

"When and where?" 

"Ten minutes ago. Here, on this housetop." 

The unconvinced disciples looked at each other and 
shook their heads. At last, John said : 

"Out with it, Judas Lebbaeus. What think you?" 

"Would God I might believe — but alone — at night — 
on the housetop — thinking intensely of this very thing. 
James was ever quiet, something of a dreamer. Why 
did not Yeshua come to us, talking of Him below here ? 
We love Him too. Why, if this be true, Death would be 
dead, and Yeshua Bardawid Lord not of earth alone 
but hell and heaven ! It is too great. Nay, James, you 
saw a vision." 

' Nay. What I saw, I saw. He loves us all. Wait, 
and you too may see." 

"He spoke much of faith. Perhaps he does not come 
here, since you have none" — this from John. 

"You have a plenty, John, and have not seen Him." 

"One of the seventy, Luke, the physician, with Cleo- 
pas, of Emmaus, and his daughter, have come, bearing 
so strange a tale that those who serve downstairs can- 
not believe it." The speaker was a pleasant-faced serv- 
ing man of the household, whom John knew, for he had 
once followed him to the house, bearing a pitcher. 

"Admit them," ordered James. 

There was an excited silence, while young Luke, with 
grey-bearded Cleopas and a slim, young girl entered; 
but before they could speak, there came a hammering 



194 MEN OF THE WAY 

on the outer gate, so clangorous that the whole company 
was amazed. Then came, after but a moment's delay, 
the sound of a man running upstairs, and Peter, fol- 
lowed by all who were in the house, burst into the room. 
He paused, panting. 

"What is it, Simon? Speak." 

"Jesus Christ is risen !" 

"Say on." 

"I know that I am not fit to be with you, for I denied 
Him. You have all been kind, but I abhorred myself. 
Therefore, I went by myself to the tomb, to be alone; 
but folk had gone to look at the empty tomb, and there 
were people there. There is no public place around 
Jerusalem where one can be alone. But I have, as you 
know, carried the key of Gethsemane for him for days — 
and had forgotten it. So I went to Gethsemane. There, 
as I mourned, He came to me." 

"How?" 

"From among the bushes. The prints of nails are 
in his feet and hands. Long scratches from the thorns 
are in his forehead. He laid his hand upon my shoulder, 
raised me up, and talked with me." 

"What said He?" 

"Nay. That rests between Him and me. What 
would He say to one who had denied Him? It is 
enough that He has forgiven me. But at the last, He 
asked if I were sure that it was He and when I an- 
swered, ' Yes/ he sent me away, by strong compulsion, 
to find and strengthen you. He reminded me that He 
had told us that on the third day he would rise. We are 
to meet Him in Galilee. I left Him at his orders, stand- 
ing among the rosebushes." 

"What say you now, Jude, Philip, Andrew, Levi?" 
asked John. 

Simon Peter turned and looked up and down the 



RESURRECTION 195 



line. The man blazed with certainty. He looked each 
between the eyes, and by sheer force of personality, 
fanned the flickering faith of each. Slowly their faces 
changed until their eyes, too, gleamed. 

"Speak you also, Cleopas," said James. "Let the 
doors be closed." 

"Luke and I walked to Emmaus. One met and ques- 
tioned us. Our hearts burned within us, but we did not 
know him. Then began he with Moses and the prophets, 
and showed us how all things that have happened were 
foretold of him. When we reached home, we constrained 
him to come in and sup with us, gave him the head of 
the table, and called on him to say grace. He took the 
bread and broke it, as the Law requires. We saw the 
nailholes in his hands, and in the breaking of bread, he 
was known to us, and vanished from our sight. Miriam, 
here, saw also. Speak, daughter." 

"I served at table. I knew him all the time. I had 
seen none from Jerusalem since Passover, and so 
thought that that rumor of his death must be mistaken. 
He is alive. I did not know that he was dead until they 
told me." 

"Lord, we believe," said John. "Help thou our 
unbelief." 

Then while he was still speaking, a quiet voice they 
knew and loved said, "Peace be unto you," and One stood 
in their midst. 

Thrill upon thrill of terror ran through them. Be- 
lieving and half-believing alike, they were afraid, and 
started back. At last Andrew gasped out, "It is his 
ghost." 

The wise, slow, kindly smile they loved so much 
assured them, and the voice, they knew so well, said : 

"Why are you troubled, and why do doubtings arise 
in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is 



1% MEN OF THE WAY 

I myself. Handle me and see ; for a spirit has not flesh 
and bones, as I have." 

Reverently, after a long pause, John approached 
and touched Him, then Mary, his mother, then Peter 
and James. Then suddenly it was if a barrier broke, 
and in sobbing, gasping thankfulness, they all thronged 
about Him, just to touch Him, to put a hand upon Him 
and be sure it was He. A word here, a greeting there, 
He had for all of them. Then while they yet disbelieved, 
for wonder and joy, He glanced at the table and said, 
"Have you anything to eat?" 

Martha of Bethany ran to the supper table, took a 
slice of bread, put on it what was handiest, — a bit of 
broiled fish it was, and a honeycomb, — and brought it 
to Him, and He ate it, slowly, calmly, quietly, as always. 
And then, at last, their last doubt vanished, and they 
knew. 




CHAPTER XXXIII 
THE FIRE OF COALS 

IHE Sea of Galilee is about twelve miles long 
and six wide, and on its thirty miles of 
beach, it had nine cities, besides villages. 
A road encircled it; and on that road, be- 
tween the cities, were villas. Thus it was 
hard to get more than a few hundred yards from a house 
anywhere on its shore. 

The dense population demanded fish, and paid well 
for it. The lake was, therefore, alive with fishing-boats. 
They hailed from every lake-city and the villages be- 
tween, but, more than any other, from the fishermen's 
suburb of Capernaum. This was a village one house 
thick and two or three miles long, stretching south 
along the beach of the plain of Gennesaret, towards 
Magdala, and named Bethsaida, or Fishtown. In this 
village of Bethsaida practically every family was under 
personal obligations to Yeshua Bardawid, the prophet 
of Nazareth. He had not only healed all the deaf, dumb, 
blind, lame, and insane, there, but, at least once, he 
had walked slowly the whole length of the village, while 
the people brought all the ordinary sick out of the 
houses on cots, and he had cured them. Therefore, 
every one had cause to be grateful to him at least for 
the cure of some relative, if for nothing else. Therefore, 
also, they all knew him by sight. 

Fishermen are no great lovers of authority, especially 



198 MEN OF THE WAY 

where every town has an octroi-duty, with tax-collectors 
at the gates, who habitually accuse even the innocent 
of smuggling. Therefore Bethsaida was sullenly dis- 
contented. News had come from Jerusalem, of how the 
High Priest and the government had arrested the 
Prophet of Nazareth, and condemned him to death, 
ostensibly for blasphemy, but really because he had in- 
jured the income of the High Priest's sons, by breaking 
up the bitterly-unpopular traffic of money-changing in 
the Temple. They had then handed him over to the Ro- 
man governor and had him executed on a false charge of 
sedition ; how false a charge none knew better than these 
same fishermen of Bethsaida, who had once joined in an 
attempt to get him to head an insurrection, and had 
failed. The thing was so barefaced that even the Roman 
governor himself had tried to save him; and that was 
practically unheard of. It was true that the Master's 
eleven lieutenants — there had been twelve but one had 
proved a traitor and had killed himself — were now in 
Galilee, five or six of them in this very village of Beth- 
saida; and they were not broken men, but rather like 
men who had heard some strange news of joy. They 
said that their Master was not dead, but risen; but, of 
course, no one could believe that. A hundred men of 
Bethsaida alone, a hundred thousand of the country at 
large, had seen him crucified on a hill at the gate of Je- 
rusalem during the height of the festival season, when 
there were at least two million pilgrims in and around 
the city; and within the next few days, they had all 
scattered and told about it. It is true that there had 
been an earthquake and darkness, and much confusion, 
and that they added rumors that he had been seen since, 
and that his tomb was empty; but nobody believes ru- 
mors. Therefore the attitude of the fishermen of Beth- 
saida was one of more than usually sullen discontent. 



THE FIRE OF COALS 199 

One more injustice had been scored against them by the 
government; and, as often before, the only thing that 
kept them quiet was the utter hopelessness of rebellion. 

Simon, the fisherman who lived in the last house at 
the southern end of Bethsaida, was troubled. To the 
discontent of the others, he added a personal grief that 
lifted his feeling out of sullenness and into sorrow. The 
Rabbi Yeshua Bardawid, when he lived in Capernaum, 
had been in the habit of walking along the lake beach, 
and returning through the fields of the plain of Genne- 
saret ; and, since Simon's was the end house of the vil- 
lage, the walk always took him by it. He had, more 
than once, asked and received a cup of water at the 
door. From this a friendship developed which was 
cemented when the Rabbi cured Simon's little son of 
the burning fever. Later, Simon himself was thrown 
helpless on his bed by a sharp attack of what we would 
call inflammatory rheumatism, brought on by exposure. 
Simon called it a binding with ropes of fire by Satan; 
and, as it kept him from earning a living, and was ex- 
cruciating agony besides, he was trebly grateful when 
the Rabbi Yeshua, the next time he passed by, came in 
and laid hands upon him and cured him. Strongest 
tie of all, the Rabbi Yeshua had given Simon the chance 
to become one of the seventy messengers whom he sent 
to the cities of Perea to arrange for his visits there. 
Simon had not taken it. He had been ashamed of his 
supineness ever since, and had meant to tell the Rabbi so 
the next time he saw him, and to ask his pardon. And 
now it was too late. Simon remembered the look on the 
Rabbi's face when, at the call for men, he had caught 
his eye and yet failed to volunteer ; and it was a memory 
that lifted his discontent above sullenness and into 
sorrow. 

One night Simon went up to the middle of the village, 



200 MEN OF THE WAY 

and, while there, saw the other Simon — captain of the 
fishing-boat which belonged jointly to him and the two 
Zebedees — pnt out with a crew. There were James and 
John Zebedee, and captain Simon's brother, Andrew, 
the mate, and some others, and their manner was that 
of men in a dream. They did not seem heartbroken at 
all, although they had seen Kabbi Yeshua, their Master, 
crucified. As was their custom, they sailed south down 
the coast to their usual fishing-grounds between Beth- 
saida and Magdala. Every boat had its favorite fish- 
ing grounds because, when you draw nets over a rocky 
bottom, you need to know that bottom minutely. Fisher- 
men usually go to their farthest place first and work 
homewards, so that, at the end of an exhausting 
night's labor, they may be near home, instead of miles 
away. They were therefore due to pass Simon's house 
again just before dawn. 

That night, Simon lay long awake, thinking about 
Rabbi Y T eshua Bardawid and his most pitiful story ; for 
Simon had hoped that he might have been the man who 
was to redeem Israel. Later he fell into an uneasy 
sleep, in which he dreamed that he heard some one call- 
ing. He woke with a sense of being needed for some- 
thing, and, of course, threw on some clothes, and went 
out to look at his boat. Fishermen always do that. A 
boat is an expensive thing, essential to prosperity, and 
almost as costly as a small house ; and cables may chafe, 
buoys fetch loose, and any one of a dozen other acci- 
dents may happen ; so that every fisherman goes out to 
take a look at his boat at any hour of the day or night, 
when he happens to think of it. It is a professional 
habit, and universal. 

False dawn had left the sky, and it was the darkest 
hour of the whole moonless night. Simon had turned 



THE FIRE OF COALS 201 

to go in again when some one, very close to him, spoke, 
saying: 

"Simon." 

There was that in the quality of the voice, a sense of 
quiet power, which caused Simon to add a title of 
respect to the usual answer to an unknown speaker. He 
said: 

"What is it, sir?" 

"I have need of a lighted charcoal furnace with 
bread and fish, on the point there." 

Simon leaned forward to peer through the darkness 
at the speaker. He saw a tall dim form, indistinct but 
not wholly unfamiliar. 

" Who are you, sir ?" he asked. There was no answer. 

"You know my name" said Simon, after a pause. "No 
stranger would ask such things of a stranger. I have 
heard your voice before, though it must have changed 
somewhat, for I cannot tell where I heard it. It is a 
friendly voice. May I come closer?" 

There was no answer, but the stranger himself came 
closer, and turned his face to the stars. Simon gripped 
very hard the doorpost of his house and began to talk, 
half to the stranger and half to himself. 

"I am dreaming," he said, "yet it is a glad dream. I 
should be very much afraid, Master, for they told me 
that you were dead, yet I am not afraid. There must 
have been some mistake. ' Fish and bread and the 
boat's charcoal furnace,' you say? Pardon me, that I 
went not on your errand to Perea. My heart has been 
sad since. 'Fish and bread and charcoal.' Oh Rabbi, 
Rabboni, dost thou live? Is it thou?" 

"Do not be afraid. It is I." 

Simon straightened up from his movement, to fall 
at the Master's feet, for there was no one there. The 
tall figure was gone, the well-known voice was still. 



202 MEN OF THE WAY 

There was no sound of any one moving through the 
garden or along the beach ; no sound of anything at all 
except the little lapping ripples that tinkled among the 
pebbles. The whole thing might easily have been a 
dream. 

Simon pondered over it a moment. "My heart sings 
within me," he said at last. I am too glad for it to have 
been a dream. I failed him once. Let me do his errand 
now." 

Working swiftly, though without hurry, he pulled 
on the stern-line of his boat, waded out to her, and 
brought her charcoal furnace ashore. "He must have 
forgiven me," he kept saying to himself, "forgiven, or 
he would not ask of me this second service." Taking 
the charcoal furnace, he went into the house, got a 
light from the hearth and built a fire in the furnace, 
took a loaf of bread and a large fish and came out of 
doors, setting the furnace so that the little breeze that 
made the ripples should blow through the aperture in 
the side, burn out the kindling, and wake the charcoal 
to a steady glow. When the fish was ready and washed, 
he picked up the furnace again, carried all to the point, 
a couple of hundred yards from his house, laid the fish 
across the bars of the furnace top to broil, washed 
his hands in the lake, unwrapped the bread from the 
large leaves laid around it to keep it clean, and waited. 

Above the eastern hills, across the lake, the pearly 
twilight of the gray-blue sky was growing faintly 
golden, it was so near dawn. Southward, from down 
the lake, came the echo of tired oars in rowlocks. Cap- 
tain Simon and his crew were pulling home. Inland, 
the cocks had begun to crow. Simon of Bethsaida 
waited a moment more, then saw that it was not in- 
tended that he should stay, and walked back along the 
beach towards his home. 



THE FIRE OF COALS 203 

A hundred yards away he turned and looked back. 
A tall and well-known figure stood on the point, dimly 
seen by the faint dawn-light, and with the glow of the 
fire of coals showing rosy upon his white robe. The 
boat was hidden by the point, but sound carries clear 
over water at dawn, and he could hear it coming. Then 
the Master hailed: 

"Children," he said, "have ye any meat?" 

The rowing stopped, and Nathaniel of Cana an- 
swered, "No." 

"Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and ye 
shall find." 

He heard the splash of the net, the beat of oars, and 
then broken exclamations and orders as it was pursed 
up. Then he heard the unmistakable drumming of fish, 
as they find themselves dragged into the air. Then, 
deep and clear, came Captain Simon Peter's voice: 

"It is the Lord." 

There was a heavy splash, the sound of a man swim- 
ming, and then out of the water at the point rose a 
dripping figure in a fisherman's cloak. He waded to 
the beach, and fell on his knees at the feet of him who 
stood waiting. Then Simon of Bethsaida saw that he 
was no longer needed, and went home into his house, 
and shut the door. 




CHAPTER XXXIV 
VIA GLORIA 

[HIS is a small shop. You tell me that your 
reut and expenses are so great that you 
clear little. I see for myself that the street 
will barely let two loaded camels pass, the 
houses are six stories high, and so close 
together that the blue sky is almost hidden ; the passing 
multitude makes my head ache, and the gutter, in the 
middle of the pavement, reeks. You have inherited 
our uncle's farm in Galilee, where you may live among 
green trees and fields, under blue sky, in clean air, and 
make more money than here, yet you seek to rent it to 
me. Why not live there yourself?" 

"Because of memories, Barchuza." 

"Memories?" 

"Memories; and such memories as you, above most 
men, should reverence and understand. Do you know 
what is meant by the sign of the fish?" 

"I know. And thou, Barsalom, dost thou believe?" 

"I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of 
heaven and earth and in — " 

"Enough. Speak lower. Shall I go on where you 
left off?" 

"No need. The Master saved thee at thy father's 
prayer. Thy mother, with Mary of Magdala, and the 
other wealthy women, gave the monies which bought 



VIA GLORIA 205 



his food and clothing, and that of the twelve. If any 
serve him, it should be thou." 

"Most true; and I do serve him. But what of the 
memories ?" 

"Because of them, Barchuza, I shall live in this 
shop, on this street, until I die; for it is, to me, the 
most wonderful street in all the world. Fully a hun- 
dred times the Master came past here, privately. I 
have seen him stand just in front of us, where that 
Arab camel-driver is standing now, and heal a lame 
man. Three times he came past here publicly, in a 
procession gathered because of him; and. each time I 
caught a glance from him, and shut up shop, and fol- 
lowed. Did you ever see him?" 

"Twice, in Capernaum." 

"Then you know how his look draws men." 

"But the memories?" 

"The first time he came by here in procession, he 
was mounted upon an ass's colt. There were people, — 
so many that they packed the street solid. The little 
Sons of Precept, twelve years old, had taken charge of 
the procession ; and there were thousands of them, with 
palm-branches, marching in column of five, soldier- 
fashion, before him, shouting the welcome to the Gali- 
lean caravan. 'Hosannah!' is the cry. The Galilean 
caravan had come in, days before, and had been wel- 
comed; and, besides, the little boys added his title: 
'Hosannah,' they said, 'to the Son of David.' When 
the small boys in the street greet the rightful king by 
his name and titles, a country is not far from civil war ; 
so I closed my shop, and followed. Besides this, the 
men, the fathers of the boys, were laying their long 
gray Galilean cloaks on the pavement for the Master 
to ride over, then picking them up and hurrying for- 
ward to lay them down again. It was as the rabbis 



206 MEN OF THE WAY 

say we used to welcome our old kings after a victory, 
before the captivity. The Master rode to the gate, of 
the Temple, dismounted, and went in, and I came away. 
"The second time was that same week. First came 
a mixed multitude, the rabble of the city, looking back 
and cursing. Then came a pair of Koman legionaries, 
holding their spears cross-wise and making a clear street 
of it. Next came a man, a Jew, carrying the 'titulum,' 
the board on which was painted, in bold letters, the 
crime of the condemned. It was lettered, in Latin, 
Greek, and Hebrew, 'Jesus of Nazareth, the King of 
the Jews.' There should have been three men with 
boards, for there were two thieves with him, but there 
was only one board and one man. Then came the cen- 
turion in command, with half the detail, then the two 
thieves and then, the Master. 

"He was a tall man, you remember, strong and 
broad-shouldered; yet the cross they had made for 
Barabbas was so heavy, and the Master was so weak- 
ened with loss of blood from the scourgings, that he 
could but just carry it; he was forced to move slowly, 
and he often stumbled. There was a sound of weeping 
from the houses, for many women had run to the win- 
dows; but the rabble in the street in front cursed 
steadily. 

"I was very sorry for the Master, for I liked him, 
though I did not then believe on him; so I followed 
swiftly, for, since it was Passover, the front of my shop 
was not fully open, and I could close it in a moment. 
I called, 'The God of Israel help thee,' as he passed, 
and he straightened up for a moment and thanked me 
with a look. Following closely, I heard him speak to 
the weeping women. I saw Simon of Cyrene inter- 
fere outside the city gates, and saw the soldiers drag 
Simon from his horse and make him bear the cross. I 



VIA GLORIA 207 



heard the chief priests taunt him. I stood in that 
immeasurable sea of people, close up to the ring of sol- 
diers; and, when the darkness came, and many were 
afraid, and went home, I stayed. I saw him die; and 
in the great earthquake which followed, I fled to and 
fro with the multitude, keeping in the open and away 
from the houses. When it was over and the darkness 
had cleared a little, I went home; and that night, I 
prayed as I had not prayed for years." 

"For what, Barsalom?" 

"For forgetfulness." 

"But you spoke of a third procession. I knew, of 
course, of the two you have described. What was the 
third?" 

"Stop and think. Wait, I will jog your memory. 
Do you not recall that, on the morning when he as- 
cended, he met the twelve and those with them in the 
upper chamber of John Mark's house in the upper city, 
and went out with them to Oilvet?" 

"Most true." 

"The most direct road from the upper city to Olivet 
leads past my shop, and on every morning it is crowded ; 
for it is a main thoroughfare." 

"True." 

"Well, on this morning, it was more crowded still. 
Remember that, for six weeks, the city had been torn 
and scourged by contrary opinions. We all knew him 
by sight. We all knew that he had died and been 
buried ; he and no other. We all knew that, two nights 
and a day later, the body was gone. Many thousands, 
I among others, had heard the story of the watch, and 
had gone to look at the empty tomb. Remember, too, 
that many bodies of the saints arose and came into the 
city, and talked with many; and the stories of those 
interviews, told by so many witnesses, had stirred the 



208 MEN OF THE WAY 

fifty myriads of our citizens, and their visitors with 
them, into such excitement and terror that, at first, it 
seemed a small, a very small thing, that among those 
risen dead should be Jesus, the Son of David. Then 
the stories of the other risings ceased. The patriarchs 
and saints, the prophets, and saint-kings were seen no 
more. But Jesus of Nazareth was seen again and 
again. The Sanhedrin stuck stoutly to the tale that 
the body was stolen away during the earthquake, while 
the guards lay prostrate, and, at first, the city be- 
lieved; but soon, those who heard the story, laughed. 
The very Scribes and Sadducees smiled, as they told it. 
None cared how the body got out of the tomb. What 
all wanted was some explanation of how the living 
Jesus of Nazareth came and went, moved to and fro, 
and spoke to many ; he with a mortal wound in his side, 
piercing the heart, a deadly wound, of which he was 
dead and buried. 

"The easiest way was to deny it all, and call all wit- 
nesses liars. This the Sanhedrin did, as did many of 
the citizens, myself among them. I think, however, 
that the Sanhedrin had doubts. I know that I did. 
There was, for instance, a child who lived across the 
street from me, and whom the Master had healed of a 
hurt hand — oh, nothing serious. The little one, leaning 
out to see the Master, had jammed it in a shutter, as 
he passed, and ran to him, as hurt children always did, 
for comfort. This little one stoutly maintained that he 
had seen the Master. He said that, as he wept at the 
cross-bearing, the Master had smiled and signalled that 
he would come again and see him; and that he had 
come again. It may have been but a child's dream but, 
because of that and other things, I was not so sure." 
"Of other things? Speak plainly, Son of Salom." 
"Nay, but I, too, had a dream, Barchuza. I am 



VIA GLORIA 209 



not sure that it was aught but a dream; but I loved 
the Master, and he liked me. Therefore, I tell it to 
none." 

"But you should bear witness." 

"What need? He bore his own witness. One by 
one the Eleven came back from Galilee, and gathered 
in the upper chamber, and perhaps a thousand people, 
who had seen him risen in Galilee, came with them. 
There were more than five hundred who saw him there 
at once. Their leaders were with the Eleven, and the 
rest kept nearby. And then, one morning, he came 
among them there. John Mark hurriedly sent out his 
messengers to them all, and they gathered very swiftly ; 
and then the Master told them to follow, and went out 
into the street, leading them. 

"It was forty days after Passover, and there were 
few visitors in the city, but our streets are always full, 
even if only of our own citizens, and among them the 
word passed like wild-fire, for the whole city had used 
that forty days to talk and debate and wonder. The 
Master did not hurry. He walked quietly through his 
accustomed streets, neither faster nor slower than he 
used to do, and he talked with his disciples, and some- 
times broke off to greet a friend by the way, just as 
had always been his habit. His route lay northward, 
down from the heights of the upper city, then eastward 
to the Jericho gate, more than a mile in all, through 
our most crowded streets. There could not have been 
less than ten thousand people who met him. I think 
it was more, for the word spread, and all who heard, 
hurried to see, so that the street was full, the mouth 
of every alley and cross-street was packed, many of the 
housetops were lined, and there were heads out of 
almost all the windows; for many men, who could not 
see for the crowd, ran ahead and mounted doorsteps 



210 MEN OF THE WAY 

or entered houses. No one said much. There was no 
shouting. A sort of visible gasp ran through each sec- 
tion of the crowd as it saw him, and that was all. You 
see, everyone knew him by sight. For some years he 
had been the most conspicuous public speaker in Jeru- 
salem, standing in plain sight and addressing great 
crowds daily; so all recognized him, and no one had 
to be told who he was. Besides, he was now marked. 
We could not see his feet, for the crowd, nor his side, 
for the mantle; but his hands, as he raised them, had 
great spike-holes in the palms, and the scratches of the 
crown of thorns were fresh on his forehead." 

"What did you?" 

"He passed within ten feet of me, as I stood on my 
doorstep. I said, 'My Master,' and he glanced up at 
me, smiled, and beckoned. I followed, very close to 
him, almost among the Eleven. I did not close the 
shop. When I remembered it, hours afterward, I made 
sure that everything was stolen, but all was safe. Some 
one had closed it for me. I never knew who did it. 

"We went quietly down the street at the head of an 
enormous multitude, meeting and gathering up more 
and more people all the time. When we passed the city 
gate, the Master knew one of the Koman soldiers on 
guard there, and nodded to him, and the whole guard 
saluted. We went down into the valley of the Shadow 
of Death, crossed Kedron, and started up the Mount 
of Olives; and, looking across the valley, I could see 
the people swarming out of the gate like bees, and run- 
ning to catch up. The Master walked quietly, as was 
his custom always, and he talked with the Eleven and 
with other of the nearer disciples. It was exactly as 
it always had been. The whole thing was impossible, 
flagrantly impossible; and yet, it was true. But for 
his hurt hands no one, looking, would have known that 



VIA GLORIA 211 



the Master was dead and buried, with a mortal wound 
in his side, piercing the heart. We were full of ques- 
tions, ten thousand questions we wished to ask; but 
no one dared. There had always been a something in 
his bearing that made for awe; and now it had in- 
creased. And always, more and more people welled 
out of the city, and came running to catch up with us. 

"The Master turned out of the road at last, and went 
to the summit of the mountain, to an open space over- 
looking Bethany, where you can see all Jordan valley 
spread out like a map below. In all, he had walked 
perhaps three miles ; and some new observer had joined 
him every step of the way. While he was moving along 
the road, the crowd which followed could not plainly 
see him; but now we could all see him very plainly. 
He stood on a little knoll and talked with the Eleven, 
giving them instructions of some kind; and then, he 
stretched out his hands in blessing, and all who be- 
lieved in him, and some who did not, bowed their heads. 
When they lifted them, he was rising into the air, float- 
ing up and up from the midst of the Eleven. There 
was perfect silence. Of all the watching thousands, 
not one had any word to say. 

"After a time, when he had risen, still slowly, so 
far that he was but a white speck against the blue, a 
cloud received him out of our sight. You know the 
story of the shining men who spoke to the Eleven, but 
for myself, I neither saw nor heard them. People spoke 
quietly together, but no one shouted or addressed the 
multitude or spoke loudly. We stood in groups around 
the place where he had been; and then, because there 
was nothing else to do, we went home. It seems a most 
lame and purposeless conclusion in the telling; but so 
it was. There was nothing left to do, and very little 
to say, so we went home. But now you understand, 



212 MEN OF THE WAY 

perhaps, why this street seems to me the best place in 
all the world, because the one nearest him; and why 
I shall stay here until I, too, go home." 

"Thou choosest well, Barsalom. I take the land at 
thine own price. Peace be with thee." 

"And with thee, be peace." 




CHAPTER XXXV 
OUT TO OLIVET 

Mark 16:19; Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1. 

ONTIUS PILATE, Procurator of Judea!" 
"What is it?" 

"Neri, the spy, asks audience." 
"Admit him/ What is it, Neri?" 
"Jesus of Nazareth !" 
"W T hat do you mean ?" 
"I saw Him." 
"Nonsense !" 

"Your pardon, Excellency, but I saw Him. I met 
Him on the bridge at Kedron brook. The eleven dis- 
ciples were around Him. Much people went before and 
followed Him. Therefore I climbed the parapet and 
saw T Him. His hands and feet are pierced. The marks 
of thorns are on His forehead." 
"Someone impersonates Him." 

"Sir, I know Jesus well. Remember for a year I 
followed Him, by your strict orders, to report to you 
His words and wonders, lest He trouble Rome. He 
cured me of a burning fever once. Besides, He knew 
me and He spoke to me." 
"What said He?" 

"When He passed by, I cried, 'Hail Master.' He 
said 'Neri, hail'. Wherefore I ran to tell you here, as 
is my duty. You may still see, from this great tower- 



214 MEN OF THE WAY 

top Antonia, rounding the shoulder there of Olivet, the 
host of those that follow. Dismiss me, Lord, that I 
may follow also." 

"Foolish spy, who is He? You should have fol- 
lowed, Jew, and learned at once who personates the 
Master. Send me the centurion on guard below, and 
go at once." 

Pontius Pilate, Procurator, calls the captain of his 
guard. 

"Here, sir." 

"Hail, Caius. I saw from here ere sunrise many 
score of centuries of natives swarming through the 
Valley of the Shadow, cross the brook Kedron, and 
climb the road toward Bethany. They clustered round 
a white-robed leader Neri says was that Jesus of Naza- 
reth whom you crucified on the day of the first earth- 
quake. Take ten horse and a decurion. Overtake that 
leader. Say that Pontius Pilate waits to speak with 
Him ; but use no force, my Caius, unless He is undoubt- 
edly an imposter." 

"Sir, no impostor can personate that King. He 
had a great wound gaping through the heart, a mortal 
wound. No man can live ten breaths with such a 
wound." 

"Make sure. Change, too, the guard at the gate and 
send the men who saw Him here to me. Tell the new 
guard to send all wayfarers who met Him here, unless 
all turned and followed Him. Send also a courier to 
Caiaphas, telling and asking news." 

"At command. Here comes the lady Claudia, your 
wife." 

"Oh, Pilate!" 

"What is it, Claudia?" 

"Jesus of Nazareth ! Old Lydia, my nurse, met Him 
today, alive, upon the street. You would not believe 



OUT TO OLIVET 215 



when told of Peter and James, of Cleopas of Emmaus 
and the women, and how they saw Him, nor of Thomas 
and the Ten, nor of those five hundred on the Galilean 
hill. You said 'twas natives and their tales ; but Lydia 
is our own and Greek." 

"Say on." 

"She went with two handmaids to bid Barshamar, 
the jeweler, come to me with wares. A great crowd, 
coming toward her, blocked the street. She saw Him 
from the doorway. She had watched Him well when 
tried, and knew Him. She came home weeping because 
she was a woman and a messenger and could not 
follow." 

"On guard below. Send two men to bring Bar- 
shamar, the jeweler, here. Go quickly." 

"At command. The guard of the gate waits below, 
Excellency." 

"Bring them into the Praetorium. Come, Domina. 
Be careful on the stairs." 

"A messenger from Annas, the High Priest." 

"Your message?" 

"Annas greets Pontius Pilate, Procurator, and says 
that from the upper chamber of John Mark's house in 
the upper city, where the disciples of the Man Jesus of 
Nazareth still gather, many came forth before sunrise, 
led by One robed in white, with wounds in hands and 
feet and side, scourge-marks on His shoulders, and 
thorn-marks on His forehead. All who met Him say 
it was Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. The 
women too — for hundreds saw Him from housetops and 
from doors — the women say the same. Most of the 
men who met Him turned and followed through the 
gate towards Bethany; and therefore Annas asks an 
interview lest there be rioting throughout the city." 

"Say that Pilate greets Annas, grants the interview, 



216 MEN OF THE WAY 

and asks that the High Priest Caiaphas be there. 
Where is Lucius Minucius?" 

"Here, Excellency." 

"You command the gate. What did you see?" 

"Jesus of Nazareth passed out this morning." 

"But the Man is dead. Explain." 

"I cannot; but I saw Him. All we who guard the 
east gate know Him well. He was a Man most un- 
mistakable, and passed twice daily. Half a dozen times, 
I have spoken with Him. He spoke with me today, 
by name. I knew His voice." 

"What said he?" 

"I and the guard saluted. You yourself have in 
His written accusation said He was a king. He said, 
'Lucius, hail V Publius here spoke with him, too." 

"What said you, Publius?" 

"I said, 'Forgive me, Lord'; for once I smote Him 
with a reed. He answered, 'Thou art pardoned, 
Publius'." 

"What say you, men of the guard? Did you know 
Him?" 

"Excellency, yes. It was Jesus of Nazareth." 

"Dismissed. Has Barshamar, the jeweler, come?" 

"Here, Excellency." 

"Who, Barshamar, was the man who passed your 
shop?" 

"I live, most noble Pilate, where men from the 
Temple and the upper town must come to reach the east 
and northern gates. A hundred times, the Man of 
Nazareth went by my shop. I know Him well by sight. 
The Man who passed this morning was the same who 
passed there, carrying a cross, the day of the first earth- 
quake — Jesus of Nazareth." 

"But this thing cannot be. The man is dead. Who 



OUT TO OLIVET 217 



was it told me of His death that day? Was it not you, 
Decurion ?" 

"It was Caius Carina, sir, and I. We put a spear 
wound through His heart and saw the clotted blood 
come out. Our legion ought to know when a Jew is 
dead." 

"What think you, Domina? Did the disciples steal 
away His living body, our soldiers keeping guard?" 

"What matter now? He lives and walks the streets 
and knows His friends, a spear -wound through His 
heart. Caiaphas and Annas asked a guard lest He 
should rise from the dead. Here they come. Ask 
them." 

"Caiaphas and Annas wait without." 

"I go to them. Come, Claudia. What think you, 
Annas?" 

"Pilate, if this Man, if this Man return, Jerusalem 
will rise and make Him king. We beg you close the 
gates against Him, lest Kome destroy us and our city." 

"What say you, Caiaphas?" 

"If this Man walk to and fro here or in Galilee, the 
whole world will go mad and follow Him. Arrest Him 
now at once, ere He reach Herod's borders." 

"Whom think you Him, Annas?" 

"Sir, an impostor." 

"I have examined witnesses. No doubt you did the 
same. More than five thousand men have seen a Man 
here in Jerusalem who, they say, is Jesus Christ, cru- 
cified, dead, and risen. If it be any impostor, they 
will soon detect and leave Him." 

"Sir, the Man is of Satan. He has claimed to be 
God. He has applied to Himself the Ineffable Name. 
He said He would rise. From Satan comes the power 
He is using to destroy the people of our God. Within 
six days He will be king. Within six months you 



218 MEN OF THE WAY 

Romans will destroy Jerusalem and blot the worship 
of the one true God off of the earth." 

"Is this your inmost thought, or do you think Him 
evil since He spoke against you?" 

"Both. I am true High Priest of the true God. 
Whoever attacks me attacks God. Act, or next week 
you will have lost your province, and great Tiberius 
has scanty mercy on those officers whose folk rebel." 

"You told me that He said by rising He would 
prove Himself divine. Suppose that He has risen." 

"Then woe and woe to us, for we accused Him and 
you crucified Him! But no, it cannot be. The folk 
will make Him king. Tiberius will slay us and our 
nation. Satan hopes to sweep the worship of the Un- 
seen God out of the world, and make all men serve 
idols. Take Him instantly, if you would save your 
office and our city." 

"Why capture one you cannot kill? Why kill one 
who can rise again? I shall not touch Him." 

"Caius Carina, the centurion, with news for Pon- 
tius Pilate." 

"Welcome Caius. Say on." 

"I took ten men and spurred towards Bethany. On 
the crest of Olivet was a great crowd, gazing upward. 
High in the air, there was a Man in white, rising. His 
garments gleamed. We were too far to see His face. 
We halted. He rose and a bright cloud received Him 
from our sight." 

"Impossible !" 

"Yet that is what we saw. We questioned men, a 
dozen, who spoke Greek. They said the man was Jesus, 
who had once been crucified. Here are the names of 
many you may question if you will. There was some 
talk of men in shining robes, who said that, in like 



OUT TO OLIVET 219 



manner, He would come again, but theui we did not 
see." 

"You halted; were you afraid?" 

"We were." 

"Why?" 

"This man was Son of God!" 

"Annas, take heart. There will be no revolt. Caia- 
phas, your people will not make Jesus king till He 
returns. He will return when all men everywhere, with 
no bloodshed, are of one mind to make Him king. 
Claudia Procula, you heard all. What think you?" 

"The Lord is risen indeed!" 




CHAPTER XXXVI 
THE POLITICIAN IN THE TEMPLE 

NCE there was a rising young lawyer, who 
had the chance of a lifetime, and bungled 
it — or succeeded. He was one of the young 
men who gathered around the Sanhedrin, 
the great national legislature of Judea ; and 
he was one of the very ablest of them, or he would not 
have had the chance. The great men of the Temple, 
which meant the greatest of all Judea, gathered to 
debate with Yeshua Bardawid, the great Prophet of 
Nazareth. It was essential that he be put down, for 
he had upset the entire banking-system of Judea and 
(since all bills of exchange in Eoman times were drawn 
by Jews on Jews) had thereby dislocated the com- 
mercial paper of big business, over all the known world. 
He must be put down. If some great socialist, now, 
managed simultaneously to disorganize the clearing- 
houses and banks of half the cities of the world, he would 
not inflict so shattering a blow on modern world-busi- 
ness, as the Master had inflicted on the business of the 
Roman Empire. He must be suppressed and put down. 
Therefore, the Pharisees tried. They were the Cler- 
ical Party in politics, and a power in the land. They 
constructed a question concerning taxes to which it 
was equally disastrous to answer either "yes" or "no," 
and even more disastrous to refuse to answer ; and the 
Master took it and made of it a great moral 



THE POLITICIAN IN THE TEMPLE 221 

lesson, and a forensic triumph. The great men of 
the nation, the heavy artillery, the chief priests and 
intellectual lights of the Pharisees were present, but 
they were silenced. They had nothing to say. They 
dared not ask him any more questions. 

Then the Sadducees tried. The Sadducees were the 
agnostic element in the land. Although few in num- 
ber they were politically powerful. They held them- 
selves emancipated from superstition, and, intellectu- 
ally, the leaders of the nation. More important, they 
held themselves politically bound to help each other 
to the great places and high-salaried offices; and, as 
their point of view was practically the same as that of 
the higher Eoman officials, they were usually success- 
ful, so that most of the great national offices were held 
by Sadducees. Representatives of the party had once 
challenged the Master to show a sign from heaven ; that 
is, to perform a miracle which no man could attribute 
to Satan. The Master had not only refused, but had 
left them — fled from the test, as they would claim. 
His reason for refusal seems to have been that there is 
no such miracle. An unscrupulous man can always 
attribute anything to Satan, either directly, or, on the 
principle that it is worth the while of the powers of 
darkness to permit a little good in order that great evil 
may grow out of it. Still, the Sadducees were the only 
men who could make even a perverted claim to have 
triumphed over the Master in debate, and so they were 
eager to try again. 

They constructed a question concerning theology, 
of such a nature that any answer whatever would be 
absurd. It is really one of the cleverest questions ever 
formulated, for it flicked the Pharisees in the raw, 
complimented the Sadducees, and contained a doubt- 
ful humorous story involving both; and lack of purity 



222 MEN OF THE WAY 

was always painful to the Master. It was concerning 
life after death, and a woman who successively married 
seven husbands. The Master took it, transformed it, 
raised it to the level of the Heavens, and drew from it 
a beautiful moral lesson. The Sadducees retired dis- 
comfited. They dared not ask him any more questions. 

Something had to be done and somebody had to 
throw himself into the breach, not only for the sake of 
the rulers, but in very mercy to the Master himself; 
for all this debate was public. Ten thousand men of 
Israel hung breathless, angry, and hilarious, upon its 
every word, and in six months its main points would be 
discussed in every synagogue from the Thames to the 
Ganges. If the Master could be discomfited in debate 
before that crowd, he would be so far discredited that 
he could not upset the money-changing in the Temple 
again. If not — well, he must be killed. To overcome 
him in debate would, therefore, be to save his life. A 
scribe came forward. Some one, probably the same 
man, had spoken approvingly of the Master's answer 
to the Sadducees. 

"Master," he said, "what is the greatest — the first 
— commandment in the law?" 

"Hear, O Israel," the Master answered; "the Lord, 
thy God, is One God." Then, continuing, he repeated 
the commands concerning love to God and our neighbor, 
which are the outcome of that profession. "Upon 
these," he said, "hang all the Law and the Prophets." 
So noble was the answer that the generous enthusiasm 
of the Scribe was kindled. For the moment, at least, 
traditionalism lost its sway, and, as Christ pointed to 
it, he saw, as in a vision, the exceeding beauty of the 
moral law. "Master," he said, "Thou hast said the 
truth; and such love is better than whole burnt-offer- 
ings and sacrifices." 



THE POLITICIAN IN THE TEMPLE 223 

' k Thou art not far from the kingdom of God," said 
the Master ; and, for the lawyer, the debate was closed. 

Perhaps a thousand men heard it. Ten thousand 
saw it, and soon learned what had been said. A hun- 
dred thousand knew of it in a week. The spokesman 
and momentary leader of the Scribes had deserted his 
colleagues, and had put on record his public testimony 
that their adversary was right. 

Those who have had experience with the bitterness 
of hotly-contested local politics during struggles when 
money — the livelihood — of the contestants is involved, 
need not be told that the Scribe left the Temple a 
ruined man. His offense was unforgivable. He had 
publicly borne witness that truth is true. Meeting 
truth face to face and recognizing it, he had proclaimed 
that recognition. He could have denied; he could at 
least have kept silent. Doing neither, and speaking out 
the honest conviction that was in him, he had thereby 
proved himself useless as a tool. There is no record, 
but there is also no doubt, that when remunerative 
duties arose, other men were employed. He was not 
punished; and indeed could not be; but he was let 
alone. His income was cut off. He had, it may be, a 
bit of savings, or some scrap of living inherited; but 
any income from work done, ceased. Though every 
Jew was bred to a trade, the influence of the Pharisees 
would be more powerful to prevent his earning a living 
in Palestine as a carpenter, than as a Scribe. 

In the tremendous readjustments of spiritual per- 
ception, at Jerusalem, which followed Pentecost, this 
man — whose whole destruction had come upon him be- 
cause he knew and acknowledged openly that truth is 
true — could not have remained in even outward alli- 
ance with the party that obeyed Annas, and contained 
Caiaphas. From sheer defiance, as well as from natural 



224 MEN OF THE WAY 

instinct, he must have acknowledged the reality of the 
Ascension, and declared that it proved the actuality of 
the Eesurrection. Cast out for this, from his party, 
alienated from his people, called a traitor by his own 
familiar friends, he must still have hesitated and re- 
frained from casting in his lot with the Eleven and their 
followers. The same clear insight which had showed 
him the faults of the Pharisees, would also force him 
to realize the errors of the Apostles. Error there was, 
for the Apostles were human. We have record of an 
experiment in community property which failed, and of 
a quarrel which required arbitration, though both were 
divinely over-ruled for good. These, and other errors, 
our politician must have seen. He knew truth when he 
met it face to face on the highway, and therefore he 
knew error. 

Thus it is not imagination, but simple statement of 
fact, even though there be no record, to say that, one 
day, about a year after the Crucifixion, two men set out 
from a house in the upper city in Jerusalem, from a 
council of twelve men who met in the large upper 
guest chamber. The house belonged to John Mark's 
father, and the two men had taken a prominent part in 
the council, though neither one had presided. That 
office belonged to James, the Master's cousin; - spiritu- 
ally, because of his relationship; from a worldly point 
of view, because, since the Master's death, James was 
the head of the house of David and, therefore, rightful 
King of Israel. 

One of the two men was young, with a clear-cut, 
cameo face and a quiet manner. The other was sturdy 
and middle aged, but his hair was white. They went 
down hill, through stone passages, more like tunnels 
than streets, to the lower part of the city, between the 
two walls, where the poor lived in great stone tenements 



THE POLITICIAN IN THE TEMPLE 225 

six and eight stories high; and at a small room, high 
up at the rear of one of these houses, they knocked at 
a closed door. 

The man who opened it was dressed in shabby 
clothes that had once been good, and his face, which 
had once been calm and intelligent, was deeply lined. 
There was no furniture in the room, unless a pallet on 
the floor can be called furniture, and there was no sign 
of food, or extra clothing. Two of the three were 
greatly changed since they last met, yet they all knew 
each other. Men remember the faces of those who look 
on at the crisis of their lives. The Scribe recognized 
John, the son of Zebedee, and Simon Barjonas, whom 
the Master had renamed Cephas. 

"Hail, Levi Barjochab, who art not far from the 
kingdom. Peace be with thee." 

"Thy peace return to thee, Simon Barjonas, witness 
to my ruin ; for with me is no peace of my own." 

"True, friend," put in John, entering the room 
quietly, "but the peace which is of God is with thee, 
for thy word to the Master." 

"Be seated," said the ex-scribe, pointing to the 
pallet, "I once had cushions, a slave or two, wine and 
sweet meats for a friend, a better housing than this, 
and hope. Your Master, your strange Master, bewitched 
me, and all these I lost by a word." 

Simon Peter ran his hand through his white hair, 
and studied the face before him for a time in silence. 
Then he said bluntly : 

"If the Master bewitched you into an idle word, 
recall the word, Barjochab, recall the word." 

"You know Caiaphas. What use to recall anything? 
He has no mercy." 

"Nevertheless, a false word, idly spoken, should be 
recalled; and Annas, though he may have less mercy 



226 MEN OF THE WAY 

than Caiaphas, has wisdom enough to give the man who 
withdraws hostile testimony, at least a pittance and a 
corner. Have you asked him?" 

"No." 

"Then go. Tell him that when you cried out, 'Mas- 
ter, it is well said,' you spoke falsely." 

"But, man, I did not speak falsely. It was well said. 
The Master's answer was true." 

"Then, man, how long halt between two opinions? 
For Jesus of Nazareth, in whom you have not confessed 
your belief, you have given up friends, and house, and 
servants, and food, and hope. Have others been to 
you, besides ourselves?" 

"One or two, at first. You have been long in coming." 

"We had other work ; you needed time to learn your 
lesson; above all, we would not mar the perfect work 
of God in you, or your perfect sacrifice for Him. Yet 
we kept watch over you. How else should we know 
where to find you? The Master, you see, has therefore 
given you two friends. Believe me, many more await 
you. They will serve you — as do we. Turn and look 
behind you and you will see that John, your friend, 
has spread a napkin and upon it bread and wine and 
fruit. Have we your permission to sup with you?" 

"I have here do means for the washing of hands to 
the wrists." 

"Water can be had, if you wish. As for us, the 
Master taught us that, for those whose hearts are his, 
both hearts and hands are clean." 

John and Simon exchanged glances, as the scribe 
closed his eyes and meditated. He was very thin, and 
his eyelids twitched and his hands trembled with eager- 
ness for the good food. At last he said : 

"And hope? I spoke of hope." 

"Eat, man," said Peter bluntly, laying a hand on his 



THE POLITICIAN IN THE TEMPLE 227 

shoulder. "Eat, and hope. Through all the world are 
men, by myriads, eager to be told of the Master and his 
life. You questioned him in the Temple, saw him cruci- 
fied, were in the city when he walked, risen again, to 
Olivet, and there ascended. You know the facts. Tell- 
ing them is a life-work. Perhaps the power will be given 
you, as it has been us, to heal the sick and cast out 
devils. There will be much toil, great danger, a new 
life, a share in the awakening of Israel, and a trium- 
phant welcoming of him when he comes again ; or, if he 
think best, a calling home to return with him. Hope, 
man. Hope greatly. Hope very greatly, Barjochab, 
thou who wast not far from the Kingdom, when all thy 
blind friends rejected him." 

"And what must I do for this?" 

"Repent, and be baptized, and then bear witness to 
the facts you know of him, as we do. In the meantime, 
man, here is a supper spread in your room, and we are 
your guests. Invite us to sup with you, and eat." 

"You — you are very good." 

"There is none good but God, and His Son, Jesus 
Christ, who rose from the dead. We have but been 
with him; as have you, Levi Barjochab, my brother. 
Therefore, in his name, do this. The host says the bles- 
ing, and you are host." 

"In his name, then, join me. O, God of Israel, who 
makest bread to grow out of the earth, reward these 
thy servants, and give me grace to serve Thee with 
them ; in the name of Jesus Christ, my friend, and Thy 
Son." 




CHAPTER XXXVII 
THE LOST CROSS 

S he dying, Kachel?" 
"Yes, and babbling as lie dies." 
"It is not fit that a Prince of Israel, the 
richest man, and the best man, in all Perea, 
should pass so." 

"Good, but not the best, Hanna. Israel has many 
good as he." 

"But none better. He was a ruler from his youth, 
keen and kind, and clean. His household loves him, 
and he held the hearts of the poor in the hollow of his 
hand. They crowd the street outside to hear of him. 
What shall I tell them?" 

"Come and listen. He may say something." 

"Rabbi, all this have I done from my youth up. What 
lack I yet? That? Well, it is done. All that I have 
is sold and given to the poor. I thought you meant to 
have only twelve apostles. I make thirteen. It is 
weary work tramping to and fro, but the words of life 
ring sure and true, and something of thine has come 
upon me, for I, too, can heal the sick, and have cast out 
devils. What? Oh, Master, Master, not that, not that. 
Leave us not alone to do the work." 

The aimless voice died down for a minute, sinking 
into an indistinguishable murmur, and the gray-haired, 
gray -bearded figure on the bed tossed* restlessly. Then 
he spoke plainly again: 



THE LOST CROSS 229 

"We cannot bear it, Master. Yet we must bear it. 
The nails that pierce Thy hands go through my heart. 
Was it all useless? The darkness and the earthquake, 
and the clamor confuse me. I will go home and mourn 
and mourn, mourn for the lost hope of Israel." 

There was a pause and the murmur of a crowd out- 
side the house made itself heard; a hushed, stifled, in- 
sistent murmur of some people sobbing, and many 
whispering. Then the man on the bed began to talk 
again. 

"Is it thou, Rabbi; O, Rabboni?" His voice grew 
stronger, and he struggled to raise himself in bed. A 
young man seated, on one side of him, and a white- 
haired woman on the other, rose from the shadows 
where they had been inconspicuous, and lifted him, 
while a younger woman brought a cup of water and 
held it to his lips. He drank, then spoke in quite a 
different voice. 

"Where is he ? I thought the Master was here ; the 
Master, Yeshua Bardawid, whom you children never 
knew. Where is your mother?" 

The white-haired woman tightened her arm around 
him and answered, "Here, beloved." 

"I would have followed him, I think, but for love of 
you, Leah. It was a great love, and has grown deeper 
all these years, oh, best-beloved. Lay me down, please. 
What is that murmuring outside?" 

"The poor, father. The poor of the city, who pray 
for you." 

"My son, if you can find it in your heart, I would 
have you sell one fourth of all I have and give it to 
them. One share I give to your mother, one to your 
sister, one to you, and the fourth is mine ; and what is 
mine I would make theirs; all of it." 

"It shall be done, my father." 



230 MEN OF THE WAY 

"Thou art, and hast always been, a good son; and 
thou, Miriam, a good, and most dear daughter. Leah, 
we shall not be parted long. Master . . . ." His 
voice trailed off into a murmur, and he began to toss 
again. One of the women at the door spoke to the 
other : 

"Will the young master do it, Rachel ? Shall I tell 
the poor folk?" 

"Like father, like son. He is a good boy and will 
do it. Besides, Leah, there, would make Caligula him- 
self keep any promise once made, and we are witnesses 
that he made it. Yet wait, and hear what is said 
further." 

"I see that it is Thou, Rabboni," the sick man went 
on. His voice grew so deep and joyful as he spoke, that 
his old wife, thinking, for a moment, that he was not 
dying, peered into his face with a gleam of hope. "I 
see that it is Thou. The marks of the nails are in thy 
hands and feet. I have touched, with Thomas, the 
wound in thy side. I understand at last, dear Lord, I 
understand. The traitor is dead, and I know now why 
thirteen of us were chosen. It was in order that there 
might at last be twelve, and I am one of them. I also 
shall sit on one of the twelve thrones, and judge a 
tribe of Israel. For short toil, ample recompense for- 
ever. It were enough, my Master, but to creep into 
some humble corner and, looking out therefrom, to see 
Thy face?" 

"Who is this Yeshua Bardawid, Rachel, whom he 
calls Master?" 

"Ask some wiser head than mine, Hanna. Yet I re- 
member, as a little child, a prophet, Yeshua Natzri, 
who went to and fro and cured madmen. The Romans 
crucified him for sedition." 



THE LOST CROSS 231 

"Oh, Yeshua Natzri? Yes, I know many tales of 
Him." 

"My cross?" the voice went on; "Yes, Rabboni, I 
bear my cross. It galls sometimes, but is not too heavy 
for my strength. Thy cross was heavier. Leah proved 
true to me, cleaving to me at the last, and naught else 
matters. We have gone to and fro, and we have had 
abiding places. We have braved persecution and have 
fled from it. I have preached Thee alone in cities, 
and the care of many churches has been upon me. Of 
the seventy nations I have visited a score and two, 
and left men preaching Thee in all. Master, Thou 
knowest . . . ." 

The voice, growing weaker, trailed off again into 
a murmur, then rose ringing : 

"With the power that Thou gavest, I have fought the 
adversary a close fight, a strong fight, a fight victorious. 
I have healed the sick, made the deaf hear, and the 
dumb speak, and the lame walk. I have given sight to 
many blind, and cast out devils. I have cleansed lepers. 
I have raised one from the dead. I have preached to 
the poor the good news of the kingdom of God. Into 
Thy hands, O, Master, I return my sword. Be merciful 
to me." 

There was a pause, broken only by the murmur of 
the multitude outside, and by the sobbing of the women. 
The end was drawing nearer, visibly. Then the voice 
began again, though weaker: 

"The nails hurt my hands. I am surprised that it is 
no greater pain. I am too weary to suffer much. Thou 
wast crucified by the Roman, but this strange and 
barbarous people, who, at first, heard of thee gladly, 
have hardly heard of Rome. I have come very far, dear 
Lord. It was time to be called home. They do me a 
kindness, meaning harm to me. Forgive them their 



232 MEN OF THE WAY 

meaning, because of their good deed. What were Thy 
words upon Thy cross ? Father, into Thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit? Even so, Father, for . . . ." 

The voice ended abruptly, and the man struggled to 
sit up again. They raised him, and he looked around 
as might one but just awakened. 

"Ah," he said, "I thought — I must have dreamed — 
I thought — Is this Perea?" 

"Yes, my beloved." 

"And you, Rachel, and Miriam, and Eli here ? ' Take 
up thy cross and follow,' the Master said. I thought 
I had followed." 

"You stayed at home with Mother, Father dear, 
and we are your children." 

"Good children, good children both. The blessing 
of the God of Israel be upon you. But I should have 
followed. Opportunity such as never man missed be- 
fore, was given me. I have loved you very dearly. 
Leah. Remember that. But a lost opportunity is 
greater than a sin. O, Thou who canst forgive both 
sins and opportunities, be merciful to me. I shall never 
sit on a throne now and judge a tribe of Israel. My 
name shall never thunder down the centuries. But 
John once sent me word that Jesus said that when He 
saw me He loved me. In memory of that love, perhaps 
it is not yet too late to creep into a little corner some- 
where. I saw my Master face to face, once, and my 
heart has gone hungry for Him since ; and shall hunger 
forever unless He pity. Give me the little corner, Lord, 
the little, little corner behind the people, where I may 
sometimes see Thy face. Rabboni, I have lost my cross. 
Out of great pity, cover me with the shadow of Thine 
own." 

The voice ceased and there was silence for a moment. 
Then Hanna whispered : "Rachel, do you see anything ?" 



THE LOST CROSS 233 

"The room seems brighter. 1 cannot see for tears." 

"I see nothing plainly, but there is a great bright- 
ness in the room." 

"Do they see?" 

"I think not. They are watching him, and weeping." 

The old man seemed listening. Then, slowly, there 
came into his eyes a light, a tearful light of wonder, 
joy, and thankfulness so great, so full of brightness and 
amazement, that he was transfigured by it, the years 
dropped from him like a garment, and he murmured: 

"It is the Lord." 

And so he fell asleep. 




CHAPTER XXXVIII 

WRITING THE STORY. I. 
The Book of Levi Godsgift 

!HE first Christian Congregation was at Jeru- 
salem. Somebody with a turn for business 
began its bookkeeping early, and made a 
list of the disciples before Pentecost, for 
the record says the number of the names 
was about one hundred and twenty. The Church, after 
Pentecost, made an intensive series of Old Testament 
Bible Studies, probably with Cleopas of Emmaus as 
teacher, for he had been instructed by Our Lord. The 
prophecies of the Messiah were the subject, and the 
whole New Testament is full of the results, so somebody 
must have taken notes. There were five thousand new 
disciples, some of them Scribes. The bookkeeping of a 
great church is enormous. There must be a list of all 
members with their addresses and an account of what 
is taken in and paid out, or the parish dies. There must 
be record of decisions made, or business becomes con- 
gested. Newcomers must be taught the facts of Our 
Lord's life and those facts connected with the proph- 
ecies. During the first few years of the Church, nobody 
had to work for a living. Whoever owned property, 
sold it, and gave the money to the Apostles, and every- 
body lived on the proceeds, and put in the time work- 
ing for the Church, and studying. Never was such a 



WRITING THE STORY. I. 235 

university, before or since. No wonder, when persecu- 
tion scattered them, the Christians of Jerusalem were 
equipped to convert the World. 

There was, then, an efficient staff of bookkeepers and 
writers in the Church at Jerusalem. All who know a 
great parish, know that there must have been, or the 
congregation would have gone to pieces. The seven 
deacons headed it, of course, since they must have kept 
some kind of accounts ; but one of the Twelve had over- 
sight, for they would have obeyed no other. There was 
only one business man among the Twelve, accustomed 
to keeping records. That man was Levi Godsgift, whom 
we call "Matthew". 

Every college student knows that when several 
people take notes of anything the notes differ. Nobody 
can put everything in, and different men leave out 
different things. When these notes are copied and used 
to instruct others, different groups of facts rise. People 
begin to ask whose notes are right. Differences are 
easily settled by asking the instructors, but such ques- 
tions impress vividly on the instructors the fact that 
there are differences. The common sense thing to do is 
to combine and correct the notes, and the common sense 
person to do it is the one in charge of records and ac- 
counts, if he be an instructor, because he has plenty of 
copyists and secretaries already. 

Therefore, it is more than mere imagination, it is 
inference so reasonable as to be almost certainty, that 
one day Levi Godsgift rose in the council of the Twelve 
as they sat in the upper chamber, and laid a roll of 
manuscript upon the table. It was written in Aramaic, 
for that was the language of his scribes. 

"Men and Brethren," said Levi, "here is the Book." 

"Whose book?" 

"Yeshua's, John Lightning, and after him, ours. It 



236 MEN OF THE WAY 

is the book of the Acts and Sayings of Yeshua, con- 
sidered in relation to the Bible prophecies of the 
Messias." 

"Is that what you have been consulting us about so 
much for the last six months?" 

"Yes, Jude. You laid upon my writers a year ago 
the task of straightening out the notes. We took what 
Cleopas of Emmaus said, added what the Twelve have 
learned by study, found that, in order to explain, we 
had to tell about many incidents and record many 
speeches, and ended by compiling this scroll, consulting 
all the Twelve for the exact words Yeshua used. You, 
yourselves, are as much authors of it as anybody; for 
though notes taken by dozens of scribes are its founda- 
tion, they were mostly notes of your stories about 
Yeshua, or of your studies and those of Cleopas." 

"Then whose book is it?" 

"Yeshua's, James." 

"But Yeshua never wrote a line of it, Levi." 

"Neither did I, except to dictate a version that 
would combine all the facts of all the notes, after we 
had sorted and grouped them ; and to add the facts that 
explained the connection of the prophecies, and gave 
the setting for the things Yeshua said. The actual 
writing was done by a dozen scribes in turn. If not 
Yeshua's book, it is yours, or that of the whole Church." 

"Call it, then, 'The Book'." 

"That would not do, Andrew. That title goes to 
the law and prophets. It is not law, or prophecy, but 
the good news Yeshua brought us." 

"You reworded most of the notes, did you not, 
Levi?" 

"Yes, Philip." 

"Call it then, brethren, ' The Good News of Levi 
Godsgift'." 



WRITING THE STORY. I. 237 

"But the good news is not mine." 

"What name did you give it?" 

"None, Thomas Twin." 

"What do your scribes call it? They must have 
called it something." 

"'Levi's Notes'." 

"Call it, then, ' The Good News According to Levi 
Godsgift ' and read it." 

There was a moment's pause. James looked around 
the table, and man by man nodded assent and settled 
into place. 

"Let us hear it, Levi," said James. "Never mind 
its name. Read it." 




WRITING THE STORY. II. 

Simon Stone's Book 

IMON STONE, that fisherman turned 
preacher, whom we call St. Peter, sat under 
the awning on the house-top of a rich con- 
vert in Rome, and looked out over the river. 
His private secretary, John Mark, was with 
him. Both sat, Turk fashion, on the same divan, and 
between them lay a roll of papyrus. 

"John," said Simon Stone, "Levi Matthew made a 
great book. I read in it daily, and my heart thrills 
every time I read; but it is useless here. These Jews 
read Greek, not Aramaic." 

"I have heard rumor, Simon, that brethren at An- 
tioch have already translated it, word for word, into 
Greek." 

"Like enough, like enough; but our work here 
prospers and grows fast. 'Twould take too long to 
send to Antioch and back again." 

"You wish a copy, then?" 

"I think we need it. We send out more men, and 
more, to preach the Word. 'Twere well they better 
knew the Word they preach. There ought to be a dozen 
copies, or a hundred." 

"Suppose, then, I translate it and set scribes to 
copy it?" 

"That means two translations, East and West, with 
later conflict as to which is better." 



WRITING THE STORY. II. 239 

"Then write a new book. You know the facts as 
well as any — better than most — and God, the Holy 
Spirit, guides you." 

"Guides us, lad, guides us! But God, the Holy 
Spirit, guided Matthew. I do not care to try to improve 
upon that guidance." 

"You will not make a new book, Simon Stone; you 
will not translate the old book; we cannot use it un- 
translated ; and yet you want a copy for each new man 
sent out. Solve me that riddle." 

"In a word, John, in a word; and that word is 
' abridgement.' " 
'Abridgement ?" 

"Yes. Make me a shortened Greek version of Levi 
Matthew's book. Leave out the genealogies, and the 
story of the infancy. They are not necessary for con- 
version, and he who wills to study, can get them from 
Levi. Leave out the Sermon on the Mount, for the same 
reason. Shorten a good deal here and there in other 
ways, and write it all in Greek. So shall it be the same 
book, not a new one, yet in a shape that we can use in 
our work." 

"Why shorten? Why not add instead?" 

"The things that Levi Matthew chose to tell were 
enough. I do not like to add to the work of the Lord 
therein. That Levi told enough is proved, for his book 
lives and works. That we can leave out much is plain, 
for he who would learn more may find some one who 
reads Aramaic, and turn to Levi." 

"Content. Will you dictate?" 

"Not so. Read over what Levi Matthew wrote as 
far as you can copy in a day. We will mark what to 
omit, and put you the rest freely into such Greek as men 
speak on the streets." 



240 MEN OF THE WAY 

"If we leave out the story of Yeshua's birth, where 
shall we begin?" 

"Where we began in real life, lad; with John Bap- 
tist, the voice of one crying in the wilderness, 'Make 
ready the way of the LordV , 

The two were silent for a long minute, praying. A 
little breeze swept across the river, and stirred their 
awning, and rustled the blank papyrus on the table 
before John Mark. 

"I have prayed. There seems clear guidance," said 
Simon Stone. 

Content", said Mark. 




WRITING THE STORY III. 

Paul's Gospel 

HE greatest man who ever lived, except 
Jesus Christ, and Julius Caesar — if you 
judge greatness by the mark a man makes 
on the world — was a little, near-sighted, red- 
headed Jew by the name of Paul, who came 
from Tarsus. He or his private secretary, Lucas, or 
both, had been through Perea, notebook in hand, on the 
footsteps of Jesus of Nazareth ; and between them they 
were thoroughly dissatisfied with the way his life had 
been told. They were familiar with Levi Matthew's 
Aramaic story of Jesus, and they had one of the first 
copies of Simon Stone's abridged account, as given by 
John Mark, but neither was what they wanted. Both 
skipped about too much. One can imagine them talk- 
ing it over — under an awning, say, on the quarterdeck 
of a little bireme on the Aegean, for they were both 
busy men and got most of their leisure during sea- 
voyages. 

"They are very good," said Luke, as he rolled up 
the manuscripts and put them in their cases; "very 
good, but, for our needs, not good enough." 

"I think we could do better, Luke," said Paul. 

"We could leave out many prophecies. Our Gen- 
tile converts are content to know that Yeshua was Mes- 
sias ; they do not care for all the details of the proof." 

"You could put in all that Mary, the dear Mother, 



242 MEN OF THE WAY 

told us at Jerusalem, when we questioned her on the 
songs she sang to Yeshua when he was a baby." 

"Yet neither of us knew Yeshua. The brethren who 
wrote these lived with him for years. The Holy Spirit 
guided them." 

"I think He guides you also," put in Theophilus. 

Theophilus owned the bireme. He was an Alexan- 
drian, who had come up the coast to Corinth on his 
own ship, met Paul and Luke there, and gave them a 
lift to Antioch on the way home. He had been heathen, 
but Paul had converted and baptized him, and now he 
was Christian and enthusiastic. 

"Write down just what you have told me," he went 
on. "Or better yet, follow Simon Stone's plan." 

"What plan?" 

"Why, you yourself have pointed out to me how 
Simon Stone has, for the most part, translated Levi 
Matthew, telling the same stories in much the same 
words, adding a little, leaving out a great deal, but 
mostly quoting Levi. He did not plan a new book, 
but merely meant to rewrite Levi's Aramaic story, 
shortened for Greek use." 

"For Jewish use, I think," said Paul, thoughtfully, 
"for Greek-speaking Jews." 

"Do you the same. Only, since the skipping about 
troubles you, begin at the beginning. Rearrange Levi's 
work and Simon's, adding the new things the dear 
Mother told you, and just enough else of your own to 
connect the things you take from them. In that way 
you need not write a new book at all." 

"It is true," said Luke, "that such a book would be 
just what our Gentiles need, and yet to write it would 
not be presuming." 

"Paul," went on Theophilus, "if you do not do this, 



WRITING THE STORY. III. 243 

some one else will. Dozens have thought of it already, 
and they will not do it half so well as you." 

" Tis true you are not the first who urged us to it. 
Many who hear Luke's notes of what Mary Mother told 
us have thought of it." 

"The guidance of God is on you," ended Theophilus. 
"If you write for no one else, do it for me. I need it." 

"Luke," said Paul, "Theophilus is right. I think 
you can do it." 

"We can, Paul. Suppose we ask the Holy Spirit." 

There was a time of silence, while each prayed, then 
waited for guidance, withdrawn into meditation. At 
last, Paul looked up. 

"There is clear guidance, I think, Luke. How is it 
with you?" 

"Clear guidance, Paul. Theophilus, have you pen 
and ink, and papyrus?" 

"Brethren, I have. This book will be read through 
the ages. It is an honor, a very great one, that you 
begin it in my ship." 

"And at your suggestion, Theophilus. Credit is due 
for that." 

Theophilus brought pen, ink, and papyrus, and sent 
a slave for a writing-table. The ship was stealing 
slowly before a pleasant breeze, the sea was blue as the 
sky, and the land to port was lovely as a dream. Luke 
took the first penful of ink and paused, looking up at 
Paul. 

"Ready," he said. 

Paul prayed silently for a moment, then smiled and 
began to dictate: 

"Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to draw 
up a narrative concerning those matters which have 
been fulfilled among us, even as they delivered them 
unto us who, from the beginning, were eye-witnesses 



244 MEN OF THE WAY 

and ministers of the word, it seemed good to me also, 
having traced the course of all things accurately from 
the first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent 
Theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty con- 
cerning the things wherein thou wast instructed. 

"There, Theophilus," he said, "as long as the book 
lives, your name lives with it." 




WRITING THE STORY IV. 

John Meditates 

OLYCAKP, Polycarp, I am very old and 
have much need of pardon." 
"From whom, dear John?" 
"From you, from all the brethren, most from 
God." 

"I do not understand. You sit quiet here for hours. 
Suddenly you speak of pardon." 

"I have gone over in my mind, dear lad, the things 
we should have done when I was young as you." 

"As young as I ? My beard is gray, John Zebedee." 

"Content, content; but what stupendous opportuni- 
ties we missed." 

"I see none." 

"When we first found Yeshua we should have turned 
back and gotten John Baptist. Had John joined 
Yeshua, all Israel must have believed on him." 

"True; at least probable." 

"When Y T eshua began to preach, we should have 
asked such questions concerning God as taught the na- 
ture of the world spiritual, and so the nature of His 
plan. We might have helped him so much more." 

"And been crucified with him." 

"What matter? We would have risen with him as 
did those others, the many bodies of saints that came 
into the city. What a chance missed ! W T e should have 
stood beside him in the trial. We should have hung 



246 MEN OF THE WAY 

beside him on the cross. We should have followed 
when he preached to spirits in prison. Polycarp, Poly- 
carp, we were all blind in one eye, and could not see the 
world spiritual." 

"If you were so, then we are blind in both." 

"Not so, lad, for we taught you to open both eyes 
wide." 

"The chief priests should have accepted him. Pilate 
should have released him. Herod should have acknowl- 
edged and proclaimed him. The people should have 
rescued him." 

"Yea, lad, and Judas should have been faithful, and 
Peter truthful, and I fearless." 

"John, of all the tens of thousands who came in 
touch with him, did any miss no opportunities, but do 
what he could, and all he could?" 

"Yea, one." 

"Who?" 

"Simon of Cyrene. He carried the cross. 'Tis what 
I should have done." 

"After the first ten seconds, he could not help him- 
self." 

"What matter? He did what he could. Marcus and 
Rufus have a prouder heritage than any heir of Caesar." 

"Had you done that you would have died with him, 
and risen, and ascended. Perhaps His need was for you 
here. I know 'tis ours. You have strengthened the 
Church." 

" 'Tis God's strength, lad, not mine. John's own 
poor strength is not enough for John." 

"You are the pipe He pours through. Were the pipe 
broken, how should we drink?" 

"Why as you must, when I am summoned home." 

"You feel sure, still, you are not to abide until He 
comes again?" 



WRITING THE STORY. IV. 247 

"Most sure, most sure. I tarried, and He came to 
me to Patmos. So was His word fulfilled." 

"Dear Brother John, I ask a favor." 

"All that I have, dear lad." 

"The greatest opportunity of all has not been 
missed. One by one, men who knew Yeshua have done 
their work and gone. Matthew, and Mark, and Luke, 
and the others have answered, 'Here' to the eternal roll- 
call, and have left, to live with Jesus. If thou go and 
the Lord delay His coming, who, in the time between, 
shall tell us of the things that they left out?" 

"Polycarp, Polycarp, Papias has been at me also to 
write the Book of Things Left Out, and when I said him 
nay, wrote more than one tale himself, although un- 
learned." 

"He will, if you do not; but, oh John, you can do 
it so much better. Set no pen to papyrus. I have a 
skilful scribe outside to take your words down. Call 
him in, and begin. Once started, it is your nature to 
finish anything." 

"So be it then. Call your man in. Is he ready? 
Where shall I begin?" 

"At the beginning." 

"Write then : 'In the beginning was the Word, and 
the Word was with God, and the Word was God.' " 



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